FINDERS KEEPERS

JESSICA HUNTLEY

Published by Inkubator Books

www.inkubatorbooks.com

Copyright © 2026 by Jessica Huntley

Jessica Huntley has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-83756-777-5

ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-83756-778-2

ISBN (Hardback): 978-1-83756-779-9

FINDERS KEEPERS is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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PROLOGUE

7TH OF NOVEMBER – 2011

The large, overfilled maroon suitcase is slowing down my progress considerably, but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. Not for anything or anyone. I must keep going. There’s no other choice but to keep dragging it behind me, even if my arms feel like they’re about to be ripped from their sockets. I keep swapping arms every few steps, but the short breaks in between do nothing to help restore what little strength I have left.

The suitcase is too heavy to pick up and carry. One of the wheels is damaged, twisted at the wrong angle, so every hole, every uneven step, catches and threatens to send it toppling sideways. It does exactly that more than once.

Sweat trickles down my forehead and stings my eyes despite the icy temperature outside. How far have I dragged it now? A mile or so, perhaps?

But it’s not only the suitcase that is causing me to sweat.

It’s the blood gushing out of the stab wound in my stomach.

I’ve managed to stem the flow with the bunched-up shirt I’m wearing, but it’s already failing miserably at its duty. There’s no chance of it stopping, not if I keep running, keep moving.

I barely feel any pain. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing, after all.

It’s not much farther to my destination, another five hundred feet or so, through the gates and across the yard; then I’ll cut through the other storage units towards the one at the end. It doesn’t even belong to me, but I know it’s there, and I have a key.

What is my next move?

I check over my shoulder for a moment, catching my breath. It’s dark and cold outside. Late, too. No one is likely to be around. When I reach the front gates of the storage company, I find them locked, but that’s okay – I have a key. The owners shut down the business a long time ago. Even the CCTV cameras don’t work anymore. I’m able to let myself in so I can gain access.

I shut the gates, but don’t relock them. I don’t plan on being here long.

The suitcase wedges itself in a pothole as I drag it across the yard. It tips over and lands in a puddle.

I reach the storage unit, unlock the rickety roll-down door and attempt to open it, but it’s stiff, most likely rusting with the amount of rain. I let go of the suitcase so I am free to use both hands to wrestle with the door, but my injury makes it difficult to lift. Pain shoots through my stomach, washing over me in an aggressive wave.

Ah, there’s the pain.

Blood is trickling down my legs.

Finally, the door rolls upwards enough for me to crawl under. I awkwardly pull the suitcase inside, collapsing onto it in relief. I roll the door back down, then flick on the light. It flickers once, twice, then dies. I switch it off and on again, and the single bulb comes alive, brightening up the cramped, dingy storage unit with a yellow hue.

Blood is already dripping onto the concrete floor, shining bright against the light above. I discard my sodden shirt and rummage through the bottom drawer of a nearby chest of drawers, pulling out the first aid kit.

I make a space to sit down, then slowly pull up my T-shirt. Every time I breathe, blood squirts out of the hole. I grind my teeth hard, taking several short, sharp breaths, then hold them as I start cleaning the area. I quickly complete that job, then use the pads and bandages, binding them around my waist until I resemble a half-wrapped mummy. The blood soaks through but seems to have slowed.

I pop two painkillers from the kit and swallow them dry, but they won’t help much, will they? I need a hospital, possibly surgery. I’m not going to make it otherwise.

I’m fucked.

And I’m going to die here if I don’t do something. Tell someone.

Whom do I tell? The one person I trusted more than anyone else in the world has already turned me away, told me to leave and never come back. If I call them, will they even pick up the phone?

I grab my phone from my pocket, relieved to see almost a full battery still. There’s not a lot of signal, but that’s okay. If the call doesn’t go through, I’ll text them. Send them a pin to my location. They’ll come. They’ll find me. They’ll save me.

Won’t they?

I reach for the watch on my wrist, touching the cool metal. It grounds me, settles my racing mind. The last thing I see before my eyes close is that damn suitcase lying on its side, the broken wheel taunting me.

ONE

MEL

The mahogany coffin sits on a stand at the front of the church, adorned with the biggest and most extravagant arrangement of lilies I’ve ever seen. I didn’t ask how much they cost. I just handed the florist my credit card and prayed that the payment went through. Somehow, it did. The vibrant blooms cascade across the lid and spill over the edges. It’s beautiful, eye-catchingly colourful, yet I can barely bring myself to look at the spectacle that everyone else is staring at with tears in their eyes and sad smiles on their faces.

My mother’s funeral is something I’ve known has been coming for a long time. Every child knows they will eventually say goodbye when they bury their parents. Only a cruel twist of fate would have it any other way. It’s a day I’ve prepared for, talked myself into believing it will be okay, that I’ll be able to handle it and that she’s in a better place, free from pain, suffering and confusion.

But it still hurts, and I feel empty, sad and confused, but also relieved.

The minister talks in a soothing, monotone voice, telling the crowd of Jane Brookes’s life. He talks about how much she’ll be missed, how wonderful she was, and how much she loved her children. I can’t help but smile a little at that comment, knowing that Mum loved me the most out of her two children. She told me more than once.

Everyone around me is solemn. Some have their heads down. Others are looking up at the coffin, tears brimming in their eyes.

My eyes are dry.

Liv and Jennie sit on either side of me, each with one of my hands clenched in theirs. They never let go. Not even for a moment. Not even when my palms sweat and my hands shake. I’m grateful for my best friends’ love and care over the past few weeks as the days have ticked by, closer and closer to this day when I must finally say goodbye to my mum.

The service reaches the point where I am supposed to give the eulogy. I finished writing it this morning, unable to find the words I wanted to say until the last moment. Even now, I’m not sure if they’re good enough. Words don’t seem to have any meaning.

The minister nods at me and stands aside, allowing me space to stand at the pulpit.

Liv and Jennie let go of my hands for the first time. Somehow, my legs take me to the pulpit. I lay my script on the stand and clutch either side of it, forcing the words out of my mouth. I don’t hear them, but I do see dozens and dozens of smiling, nodding faces. Yes, there are tears spilling down their cheeks, but whatever it is I’m saying is making them happy. I keep going, every once in a while making eye contact with my two best friends, centring me back into the moment.

Then it’s over, and I’m whisked away, along with the crowds, shaking their hands and receiving their hugs, along with their deepest condolences. Over and over and over. Next, I’m guided to the crematorium, then the wake. Told what to do and where to go and asked questions I don’t really understand, but someone answers with the right words. It must be me.

Now, I’m standing by the refreshment table laden with delicious food and drink, staring at an almost empty plate of egg salad sandwiches with the crusts cut off. My mother hated egg salad sandwiches, yet here they are at her funeral. She wouldn’t want this. Why are people even eating them?

Someone grabs my arm and squeezes it tightly. ‘It was such a beautiful service,’ they say.

‘Yes,’ I respond. ‘It was.’

They move on, and I go back to staring at the plate of egg salad sandwiches.

I’m clutching a gin and tonic in my left hand, the ice clinking against the glass.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

‘Melanie?’

I blink once. Twice. ‘Yes?’

‘Are you all right, dear?’ It’s my aunt Eloise, my mother’s sister. She’s wearing a black dress. Everyone is wearing black. Every person in the room is blending into one another. My eyes can’t seem to differentiate between anyone.

‘Yes, thank you.’ I must have said thank you over five hundred times already today. The two words are beginning to make no sense. Each of them has lost all meaning. My tongue moves in my mouth, forming the syllables, yet the words are merely sounds to me.

‘You know where I am if you need me. Ooh, there’s one egg salad sandwich left. My favourite.’ Aunt Eloise leans across me, plucking the sad-looking sandwich from the table. She has her walking frame with her and her carer nearby. I’m grateful she made the journey to be here despite her frailness and Parkinson’s disease.

I turn and survey the room. It’s a sea of black and grey. There must be more than two hundred people in the room, more than triple the amount that were in the church for the service. Who are all these people? I don’t remember sending invites to this many people.

Despite the crowds, there’s one person I don’t see among the grieving faces, the one person I was expecting to be here, who should be here. Mary. My twin sister.

I haven’t seen her in almost seven years since we fell out over money. She asked me for a loan, and I said no. She’s practically a stranger to me now, but she should be here to say goodbye to our mum. A deep fury settles inside, making my stomach squirm. I lift the glass to my lips and take a small sip, wincing at the sharp coldness on my tongue.

Someone put more than a single shot of gin in here.

I don’t complain, but I do take another drink.

Liv appears, knocking into me, sending my drink sloshing over the side of the glass. ‘Hey, how you holding up?’

‘As well as can be expected, I suppose,’ I reply with a slight smile.

Liv’s movements are jerky, her voice slurred enough for me to know that she’s had a few drinks. I don’t blame her, nor do I mind. Liv can handle her booze. She’s wearing a fitted pair of black trousers and a dark blue shirt, open at the collar. She’s unbuttoned it since the service.

‘Have you seen Jen?’ she asks.

‘Uh, I think she had to step outside to call William back.’

Liv rolls her eyes. ‘She can’t even leave her kids alone with her own husband for a few hours without having to check in.’

I don’t respond directly. Liv can be a little harsh against Jennie sometimes when it comes to her kids, but then, Liv has never had to look after anyone other than herself before. She’s handed everything she ever needs. Liv’s parents are wealthy – a large manor house in the country and two holiday homes wealthy – and she still lives at home with them in their family mansion in Chippenham and gets a weekly allowance to pay for her phone, car and anything else she needs. Liv is thirty-five. She works with me but only earns a small wage. She only does it to stay occupied.

As soon as Liv finishes talking, Jennie appears, looking flustered. Her eyes dart around all four corners of the room, as if searching for an escape route. She’s never been good with large crowds.

‘Hey,’ she says a little breathlessly. ‘Sorry, that was William on the phone. He’s just told me that he had an emergency call from work, asking him to come in despite them knowing he’s working from home today because of looking after the kids. So, what has he done? He’s said yes and dumped the kids with the neighbour.’

My mouth drops open, about to respond, but Liv beats me to it.

‘And that’s a problem because?’

‘Our neighbour is eighty-four! She can’t look after a baby and a small child! I’m really sorry, Mel, but I have to go home and rescue them.’ She leans towards me and kisses me on the cheek, then gives me a big squeeze.

‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘Go rescue your children.’

‘More like it’s your neighbour who needs rescuing,’ mutters Liv. Jennie shoots her a dark look, and Liv holds her hands up. ‘Kidding!’

Jennie gives me a silent thank you look, then glances at Liv again briefly before rushing out of the room, accidentally knocking into a tall man who is walking towards us. Liv starts talking, but I miss most of what she’s saying because I’m staring at the man who’s approaching.

His face is familiar. He’s clean shaven, younger than me by at least ten years and dressed in an impeccably pressed dark suit. I sense Liv stiffen next to me when she notices him, and we stand shoulder to shoulder as the man stops in front of both of us, his eyes only on me.

‘Hello, Mel,’ he says.

The penny drops.

‘Oh my God … Isaac?’

His face lights up. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d recognise me. It’s been a while.’

I lean in and hug my younger cousin, catching a whiff of strong aftershave. ‘Gosh, I didn’t recognize you at first, but then when you spoke …’ I let him go, and he moves back slightly, still not looking at Liv, who I can tell is itching for an introduction. ‘You look amazing,’ I say. ‘It’s been, what, fifteen years since I’ve seen you?’

‘Sixteen, yeah. You were nineteen, and I was nine.’

‘And now you’re taller than me.’ We share a quick laugh.

Liv clears her throat.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Isaac, this is my best friend Liv. Liv, this is my cousin, Isaac.’

Liv offers her hand, and Isaac formally shakes it, looking a little bashful. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he says.

‘Likewise,’ coos Liv.

‘Uh, Liv, would you mind getting me another drink?’ I ask, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave Isaac and me alone to talk.

‘But you haven’t finished that one yet.’ She nods at my glass, then seems to realise a little too late what I mean. ‘Uh … sure. Bye, Isaac.’

As soon as she’s gone, I turn to him and smile. ‘It’s so good to see you. Thank you so much for coming.’

‘I’m sorry I’m not seeing you under better circumstances. I’m so sorry about your mum. Dad always spoke fondly of her before he left.’

‘Thank you. I was sorry to hear about … what happened.’

Isaac waves off my comment. ‘It’s water under the bridge now.’ He looks to the left for a moment, then turns back to me and clears his throat, awkwardly covering his mouth with a hand. ‘I, uh …’

I wait for him to continue. He’s nervous, a little unsure perhaps, so I help him along with the conversation by asking, ‘What is it you–’

He coughs, and his cheeks flush red. ‘How is your–’

Neither of us seem to be able to finish a sentence. We keep interrupting each other. Isaac waves off the awkwardness, then takes a deep breath.

‘Sorry, you go,’ I say with an embarrassed laugh.

‘I was going to ask after your sister.’

‘Oh, Mary? She’s, uh … fine.’ The last thing I want to do right now is talk about her, so I keep my answer short, hoping he gets the point.

‘I was, uh … sorry, I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I was hoping to ask if you may have come across any of my father’s old things in your parents’ house.’

‘Oh!’ My surprise must be evident on my face.

‘It’s just that … I wonder if your dad ever mentioned him or if your mum ever talked about him, you know, before she died.’

His words knock the breath from my lungs. I don’t know my extended family at all, having last seen Isaac sixteen years ago, and even then, I didn’t know him well. The only immediate family I have left now are Aunt Eloise and Mary, and both of them live far away from me. To be honest, I’m not sure where Mary lives.

‘Gosh,’ I say, taking a cool sip of my drink to soothe my sore throat. ‘I have no idea, I’m sorry. The truth is, my own father passed away so suddenly and so long ago, I don’t even remember him talking about his brother much. Anything of my father’s will still be at my mum’s house in boxes somewhere. She never threw anything away. I think his clothes are still hanging in the wardrobe. I’m going to be clearing out her house over the next few months, so if I do find anything that may be of use to you, or that I think might have belonged to your dad – to Uncle Kevin – then I’ll let you know.’

Isaac nods. ‘Thank you. That’s really helpful. Can I give you my number?’

‘Yes, of course.’ I delve into my pocket and hand him my phone, watching as he types in his digits and saves his number, then calls it, sending it to his own phone.

‘Thanks,’ he says again. ‘Well, I’d best let you get back to mingling. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.’

I squeeze my lips into a smile, and we hug again, saying our goodbyes. As he walks away, I get the strangest shiver up my spine at seeing a long-forgotten member of my family. It’s like seeing a ghost.

It all gets to be too much, and I make a swift exit from my mother’s wake only an hour later. Liv causes a distraction by dropping a large plate full of sausage rolls, and I duck out the side of the building, finally able to take in a deep lungful of air for the first time since stepping inside the rented hall.

I take a slow walk through the centre of Chippenham and head for Mum’s house. Although, technically, it now belongs to me, having inherited it from her. I seek silence and peace, away from the mourners and the handshakers and the criers.

I haven’t cried once. Not once.

I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I already made my peace with her death a long time ago when she was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Five years. She lasted five years before a vicious bout of pneumonia weakened her immune system so much that she couldn’t recover. I thought I might have longer with her, but in a selfish way, I’m relieved because it means I don’t have to watch her forget me altogether or slowly decline into a shell of who she once was.

She forgot a lot, yes, but she was still herself most of the time, still able to live alone in the home where she’d raised me and Mary, the house she’d bought with my dad forty years ago.

I reach the semi-detached house in the quiet cul-de-sac and slide the key into the lock. I haven’t been here since the day she went to the hospital. She never left. That was three weeks ago.

Pushing open the front door is a tough job because there’s been an influx of post, and it’s piled up inside, acting as a wedge. Using my shoulder, I give the door a nudge, finally stumbling over the threshold and tripping over the masses of envelopes.

I scoop everything up and cart it into the living room, sighing at the amount of furniture and items everywhere. My mum never threw anything away, not if it could be sold or passed on to someone else. I suppose that’s where I got my love of restoring old furniture from, and why I’ve now made it my career, having set up my own restoration business with both Liv and Jennie, even if I don’t want to think about that business right now. Mum taught me a lot of what I know. I’d help her out in the shed in the back garden, where she kept all her tools and paintbrushes. I remember her showing me how to remove old varnish and prepare the wood for a new coat. She bought me an old chest of rickety drawers and helped me restore them. I’m almost certain they’re still upstairs in the corner of my old room, most likely covered with clothes or boxes of other random items.

Despite Mum never wanting to part with a lot of the furniture she restored, I have no choice but to go through this house room by room and figure out which bits I can sell and which bits to keep. I only live in a small two-bed flat, so there’s no room for me to keep anything for myself, even if it is for sentimental purposes.

I also dabble in antiques, and I know for a fact that Mum has a large vase collection that may be worth something. I’m sure she’d be disappointed that I’m taking steps to sell her treasured possessions, but in her will she did state that all the items in the house were mine to do with as I pleased. The first task will be to go through every room and take stock of what there is, then move through the house, clearing and cleaning as I go. It’s a big job, one I don’t relish, but it’s got to be done before I can sell the biggest money-maker – the house itself.

I’ve thought about moving in here instead, but it’s large. I don’t need this much space and this many rooms. It’s only me. I can’t afford the extra costs it would take to run it.

My eyes scan the lounge and settle on Mum’s recliner chair, which is at least twenty-five years old. The fabric is thread-bare, faded. As I lower myself into it, Mum’s smell fills my nostrils, instantly taking me back to my childhood. Mints and a whiff of perfume. She always wore it; even when her mind was elsewhere, she always remembered to spritz her favourite scent. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes, taking a moment.

When I open them a few seconds later, my gaze focuses on the mantel over the fireplace, which is adorned with trinkets of all shapes and sizes, ranging from a crystal elephant to a tall, elongated vase. The elephant is the object that draws my eye first. There used to be two, they came as a pair, but Mary broke one when we were ten. It smashed to smithereens when she threw a ball at my head and I ducked to avoid it. Mum rushed in from the kitchen to find us running from the room, one of her precious elephants destroyed. She picked up all the pieces without a word and put them in the bin, never saying a word to either of us. That was the worst part. She didn’t punish us or shout, just accepted the damage and moved on.

My eyes travel the length of the mantel, settling on the ugly vase at the end. I’ve never liked it. It’s so tall that it’s not even suitable for flower stems because you’d have to fill the thing to the top with water just for the bottoms of the stems to touch it. Mum has always had it in the same place.

I stand up and walk over to the mantel, which is covered in a thick layer of dust. I run my fingers across the back of the elephant, then use my finger to draw a wavy line in the grey dust, traveling around each of the smaller trinkets, towards the vase. I study the wavy, swirling patterns on the vase. I can’t help but smile though because it reminds me of Mum – chaotic but pretty. I pick it up, feeling the heft in my hands as I turn it over to look at the bottom, wondering if it’s made by anyone I’ll recognise. It may be worth something. I’m not sure I can bring myself to sell the crystal elephant, but the vase means nothing to me.

As I do, something inside rattles, then drops out and onto the floor at my feet. I forget about checking the make of the vase and bend to retrieve whatever has dropped out.

It’s a set of two keys: a small silver one with a sticker on it that says ‘17’ and a larger gold one.

On the metal ring is a tag that says ‘Mason’s Storage’.

I’ve never seen these keys before in my life.

TWO

MEL

My first thought is that perhaps Mum has a rented storage unit where she keeps more furniture she’s restored or collected over the years. The idea of clearing out yet more items is not one I want to think about right now. I also don’t recall seeing anything about Mason’s Storage in Mum’s will. Were these keys meant to be hidden, or is it a case of Mum having slipped them into the vase for safe keeping and then forgotten about them?

Returning the vase to the mantel, I keep hold of the set of keys while I head into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. What I find is a mountain of dirty plates, cups and cutlery, along with a ridiculous number of kitchen appliances, which I’m sure Mum had no idea how to use towards the end. I begged her to have a clear-out over the years, but she refused. There’s an ice-cream maker, two coffee machines, a toastie maker, a waffle iron and three toasters. Plus a microwave and a smaller oven perched on top.

I open the fridge and balk at the smell that lunges at me. There’s no fresh milk, so the first thing I do is empty every item inside the fridge and dump it into the bin, which I then tie and leave by the back door, ready to take out. I flick on the kettle and find a tea bag and sugar and make myself a cup of black tea before heading back into the lounge to Mum’s chair.

I take a seat, then type ‘Mason’s Storage’ into Google on my phone. A website pops up for a local rental storage company located on the outskirts of Chippenham in a large industrial estate that I’ve passed many times. I call the number on the contact page, but it goes straight to voicemail, so I clear my throat and leave a quick message, explaining who I am and that I’ve found a key in my mum’s house, and leave my number for them to call me back. When I hang up, I briefly wonder if I’m about to be charged an extortionate fee by the company for the use of the unit. I hope not because my credit limit is hanging on by a thread, and my bank has already declined to increase my overdraft.

I continue to search through the website. It doesn’t look as if it’s been updated for a long time. The photos are old and not very professional, and to be honest, the storage units look worn and dirty anyway. It’s clear the metal was once painted a bright orange, but now it’s flaking off, even in the pictures. There’s an email address, which I copy and paste into a new email. I quickly type out a brief message, saying the same thing I did in my voicemail, and send it. It doesn’t bounce back, so I’m hopeful.

Once I’ve finished my tea, I rinse the cup in the sink and put it on the draining board, then take the bin bags out to the back garden, which is severely overgrown, and dump them in the bin. It’s Friday today, so they aren’t due to be collected until mid-week. I may be able to make a start on clearing out a lot of the general rubbish before then, but not today. I don’t have anything left in me to give. The funeral has sapped every last ounce of my social battery, and my black clothes are making me feel even more morose.

I take a glance around the garden as memories from my childhood spring up like daisies. Happy memories, mostly. The swing set is still there, rusted and broken. The mud kitchen has collapsed and is now a pile of wood. Guilt washes over me. I should have helped Mum clear this away, but she refused, saying she liked keeping the memories because when her illness got too bad, they might be able to help her find her way back.

I go home and take a shower, hoping it will wash away the bleakness I feel inside. It doesn’t, but I do feel a little more human. When I wander back into the living area of my open-plan flat, I spy the storage keys I put on the small dining table, which is only big enough to fit two people round – three at a push.

I pick them up, feel the cool metal in my palm as I squeeze them.

Mind made up, I send a message to Liv and Jennie in our group WhatsApp chat.

The next morning, I stare up at my bedroom ceiling for a long time, studying the weird, damp patch around the light fixture. My first thought is that Mum is really gone and this is the first day without her. I know it’s not exactly true. She’s been dead for three weeks, and I’ve been consumed with funeral arrangements and getting in contact with her solicitors, but today I don’t have any of that. The funeral is over. And now, I have to continue with my life without her in it.

A small tear leaks from the corner of my left eye, the first tear I’ve cried since she died. It dries up. One tear. That’s all. It’s enough for now.

My mind wanders as I make breakfast to meeting Isaac yesterday and then to the keys I found in the vase at Mum’s house. Last night, I arranged to meet Liv and Jennie at the industrial estate at nine this morning. It’s just gone half eight now, so I need to get a move on if I’m going to be on time.

I drive to the industrial park, but when I get there, I need to use Google Maps to find Mason’s Storage because it’s in a very neglected part of the area, and there isn’t even a sign on the building. The only reason I recognise it is from the photos I saw online yesterday, but it looks very different.

There’s a small building and then lots of rows of large metal containers, which are now in a sorry state, paint peeling and plenty of dents. There’s a metal gate with a chain through it, blocking me from driving my car right up to the main building, so I park and get out, checking my watch.

It’s not long before my friends arrive in the same car. Liv must have got a lift from Jennie.

Liv gets out first, her upper lip curled in disgust as she flaps her hand in front of her nose, screwing it up. ‘Roan pooped,’ she says.

Liv jumps out of the car. ‘Won’t be a minute,’ she shouts as she does her mum thing.

I nod and smile as Liv approaches me. ‘What are we doing here at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning again?’ I didn’t tell either of them what we were doing before work today, just told them to meet me here. All I said was that it might be worth our time.

I hold up the set of keys. Liv takes them from me, reading the tag.

‘I found them yesterday in Mum’s house in a vase. I’m assuming it’s full of old furniture. Thought it might be something we should look at together and see if we find anything we can upcycle, repair or sell.’

‘Cool,’ says Liv, handing me back the keys.

Jennie appears, pushing Roan, her one-year-old baby, in a buggy. She often brings him into work – a large warehouse we rent in the centre of town – so I’m used to his presence, but Liv likes to make it clear that she doesn’t care for babies. She treats him as one would a bomb about to explode.

I bend down and tickle Roan’s feet. ‘Hey, little man. Fancy exploring a storage unit with us?’

Roan giggles and kicks his feet, screwing up his face.

‘Looks like it’s closed down,’ says Jennie.

‘The number on the website was dead, but the email worked. I haven’t had a reply yet.’ I take the keys and try the large one in the padlock holding the chain in place that’s wrapped around the gates. It takes a couple of attempts, but eventually the padlock pops open, sending a small cascade of rust to the ground.

‘Why does it feel as if we’re breaking and entering?’ asks Jennie as Liv and I untangle the chain and slide it through the bars on the gate. I drop it on the ground out of the way.

‘I have the keys,’ I say. ‘We’re not breaking and entering.’

Liv opens the gates, and we walk through, heading straight for the building where I assume the main reception used to be. I peer through the grimy window. It looks as if the company could be open. There are computer terminals, desks and several filing cabinets, but the door is locked, and there’s clearly not been anyone inside for some time because the black desks are covered in dust. Paperwork is scattered over the floor near the back, but otherwise it looks in a tidy order.

‘Weird. Maybe it’s not closed down, but in liquidation or something,’ I say, straightening up.

Jennie looks around at the units. ‘I wonder how many units are here.’

I shrug. ‘Don’t know, but we’re looking for number seventeen.’

Liv points over to one of the rows. ‘There’s number ten. Let’s start there.’

Jennie and I follow her, swapping idle chit-chat as Liv jogs ahead. The pram’s wheels rattle against the rough ground. Liv reaches number ten, then turns and jogs back to us.

‘Looks like none of them are in order. After number ten is two. Some don’t even have numbers on.’

I let out a disappointed sigh. ‘Let’s split up.’

‘That sounds like the start of a horror movie,’ answers Liv.

I chuckle. Liv’s always been the comedian of our group, keeping the tone light when things get a little dark, but sometimes it can grate on me. I’m the quiet one, the reserved one usually. The only reason Liv and I are friends is because one day, at primary school, Liv decided to take me under her wing and look after me when a boy pushed me over in the playground. She became my protector, my guardian, as it were. Then, a few months later, Jennie started at the school, and we adopted her into our small group because she was getting picked on due to her large birthmark covering most of her forehead. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

Despite my suggestion to split up, we end up walking down the same paths eventually, having covered most of the area. I find number seven and try the key, in case the one has flaked off the sign, but it doesn’t work. I try the key on all the units that have no number, slowly but surely making our way through them.

We have one last row to try, and there’s a unit right at the end with no number. There is a number plaque though, which hasn’t fallen off the wall, but has been painted over with black paint. I slide the small silver key into the lock and twist, a jolt of excitement causing my heart rate to spike as it turns all the way around.

The handle is rusted though. Liv jumps into action, helping me with the roll-up door.

‘Fuck me,’ she says. ‘It’s like it’s been welded shut.’

Together, we lift the door, but we can’t get it any higher than our waists. It could be because it’s rusted or damaged. Liv is the first one to duck under, switching her phone torch on.

Jennie stays outside with the buggy. Roan is fidgeting and seems fascinated with his own two feet, bringing them up to his mouth and gnawing on them. I turn on my phone torch and join Liv inside, but she’s already found the light switch.

It flickers once, twice; then the bulb explodes over our heads, sending tiny shards of glass down around us.

Jennie shrieks outside. ‘What happened?’

‘The bulb blew,’ I call back. ‘You coming in?’

‘Yeah, okay, give me a minute.’

The beams from our phones, on top of the daylight from underneath the door, is enough to light up most of the space inside. It’s not a big unit. Roughly ten by ten square. There’s also not as many items in here as I was expecting. A wardrobe, a large travelling trunk, a maroon suitcase, a chest of drawers and several big cardboard boxes stacked in the corner.

Disappointment washes over me, as I was hoping to find some long-lost treasure to be restored. It’s a passion of mine. The floor of the unit is grey concrete, but there are dark stains everywhere. Damp. Dirt.

Jennie is manoeuvring the buggy under the roll-down door behind me. Liv stops to help her while I check out the large suitcase that’s been chucked on the floor, fallen on its side. I pull it towards me, noticing the broken wheel, and then I unzip it all the way around.

Nothing but curiosity drives my actions as I sort through the clothes inside. Shirts, jeans, some T-shirts and several pairs of men’s boxers and socks. A pair of trainers. A small pack full of toiletries, including a razorblade and a toothbrush.

‘What’s that?’ asks Jennie, bending next to me.

‘Someone was going somewhere,’ I say.

I drop the clothes back into the main compartment, then reach up to the zip section on the lid of the case, pulling it across and reaching my hand inside. There’s something lumpy hidden in the zipped pocket. I pull it out, and Jennie and I gasp in unison.

It’s a wad of cash.

‘Oh my God,’ says Jennie, reaching her own hand into the pocket and pulling out another. Then another.

Liv joins us. ‘What the hell?’ She dips her hand in, and within seconds, the three of us have pulled out twenty-two wads of cash. They vary in denomination, but all of them are worth far more than pound notes. Each wad is of varying thickness. The notes aren’t new, crinkled at the edges, but they are wrapped in a paper band holding each collection together.

‘There must be thousands here,’ says Liv with a laugh. Her eyes are wide as she starts laying them all out on top of the suitcase.

‘This is crazy,’ replies Jennie. ‘I’ve never seen so much money before.’

I shake my head. ‘Me either. I wonder where it’s come from. Who this suitcase belonged to.’

‘Who cares!’ Liv laughs. ‘We’re rich, baby!’

‘Aren’t you already rich?’ asks Jennie.

‘No, my parents are rich,’ she replies coolly.

Typical Liv. Jumping to conclusions and assuming we’re just going to walk out of here with the cash and start spending it. Plus, it was found in my mother’s storage unit, so what gives her the right to keep and use it? I don’t say what I’m thinking because I don’t want to start a metaphorical fire. For a start, the notes are in the old style, before the change from paper to polymer, which dates them before 2016. It means they can no longer be spent in shops but can still be exchanged in banks or paid into an account.

‘We can’t just take it,’ I say.

Liv rounds on me as if I’ve insulted her. ‘What? Why not? Haven’t you ever heard of finders keepers? This storage unit belongs to you now, right? Therefore, whatever is inside it is yours.’

‘Right,’ I say. ‘But …’ I stop and pick up one of the wads, feeling the smooth paper with my fingers. It’s hypnotic, the way the sight of cash draws the eye, sucks you in. I can feel it already, the possibilities of what we can do with it.

Our restoration business is failing. It could give us the cash injection we need to rescue it. Not to mention, it could help us all out financially for the foreseeable future. It’s not a lot of money in the grand scheme of things. I’ve no idea how much there could be, but it’s several thousand pounds at least.

As if she’s read my mind, Liv starts counting it.

I stand up, leaving her to it. Jennie leans closer to me. ‘I mean, we could keep it, right?’ she asks.

I shrug. ‘I’m not sure what the right procedure is here. Mum never said anything about this in her will. Just because I found the keys in her house, it doesn’t mean they belonged to her, right? The money clearly used to belong to someone, but how it ended up in this storage unit, I have no idea.’

‘I wonder what else is in here,’ asks Jennie, already moving away to the large trunk behind us.

I watch Liv as she uses the light from her phone, which she’s propped up to shine on the cash, her eyes widening with every second.

I stand rooted to the spot, my mind whirling with questions.

Then, in the small confines of the storage unit, an ear-piercing scream makes me drop my phone, followed by an almighty thud.

Time grinds to a halt. My heart beats wildly in my chest.

‘Jennie … Liv …’ I whisper, my breath catching in my throat.

THREE

MEL

My phone clatters to the floor, but I don’t stop to check if the screen is smashed. I spin to face Jennie, who screams again, more like a shrill whimper this time, backing away from the trunk towards Roan, who starts crying at his mother’s distress.

‘What happened?’ I ask, then, seeing she’s not injured, scoop my phone off the floor.

‘A giant spider, perhaps?’ asks Liv with a chuckle, still obsessing over the cash. She barely flinched when the scream ripped through the tiny unit.

Jennie hasn’t said a word yet.

My phone is miraculously still intact, so I shine the torch beam on her, taking in her pale face and dilated pupils. ‘Jennie? Are you okay? Was it a spider?’

She shakes her head, then points at the trunk, her outstretched arm trembling. The lid is closed. Perhaps that’s what that loud thud was just now. She whimpers again, now crying.

‘Jesus Christ, Jen,’ says Liv, finally standing up straight and taking her eyes off the cash.

I leave Jennie alone because my morbid curiosity is dragging me towards the trunk in the corner. It’s a vintage travelling trunk and looks to be made of thick leather and wood. Gorgeous, and it’s in relatively good condition, which means it could be useful to sell.

Holding my phone torch aloft, I lift the lid and flip it open. It crashes against the metal wall of the unit.

A brown, mummified skeletal hand is the first thing I see.

I leap away from the trunk, somehow managing to hold a scream in my throat. The lid remains open. The smell is very strong and musty, like mildew. It penetrates my whole body, seems to seep into my pores. Now that I think about it, the trunk itself emitted a faint odour as I approached, but I hadn’t thought anything of it.

‘Is it what I think it is?’ asks Jennie, her voice wobbling. She’s turning away, like she can’t bear to look again.

My hand is over my heart in an attempt to settle its chaotic rhythm, but there’s no way I’m going to be coming down off this adrenaline rush anytime soon. I nod and take a cautious step forwards. ‘Yes, I think it is.’

Liv joins me at my side. ‘What the hell is in this freaking box … holy shit!’ She covers her mouth with both her hands, but she doesn’t flinch away like Jennie and I did. She steps closer, using her torch to get a better look, mesmerised by it.

My nose is still struggling to comprehend the odour, and my stomach is flipping from the shock.

‘It’s a mummified corpse,’ says Liv, her voice full of awe.

I swallow back the saliva that floods my mouth, then gingerly make my way to Liv. With both our phone torches shining into the trunk, it lights up the contents considerably.

Yep, it’s a mummified corpse.

The skin is brown and black and seems to have shrunk against the bones, giving it a super creepy, emaciated look. The head isn’t visible in its current position, but the body seems to have warped out of shape, or maybe it was forced into this position when it was put in here.

Liv is leaning closer, studying the hand that’s sticking up slightly. A shiny gold watch glints in the torchlight. ‘Holy shit, that’s a Rolex!’ says Liv.

‘Don’t touch anything!’ I say, grabbing her arm.

She holds up her hands in surrender. ‘I wasn’t, don’t worry.’

‘Is it a man or woman?’ asks Jennie, finally finding her voice and taking a few steps forwards, but she’s positioned Roan by the roll-down door. He’s fallen asleep with one of his feet in his mouth.

‘Man, by the looks of the clothes and the watch,’ says Liv, matter-of-factly.

I agree with her. The skeleton does look male due to its size and the clothes, which have degraded against its body, but I’m no expert in human forensics. However, considering the contents of the suitcase, I’d assume the body to be male.

‘Do you think the money and suitcase of clothes belonged to him?’ asks Jennie, reading my mind.

‘Possibly,’ I reply, ‘but he didn’t get into the trunk willingly, so who the hell put him there?’

‘Do you think he was killed?’ asks Liv, craning her neck this way and that to get a better glimpse inside the trunk. She’s dangerously close to touching the remains, and if there’s one thing I know about what to do when you find a body, it’s not to touch it.

Oh, God …

What if he was murdered? What does this mean?

‘If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say he was,’ I reply.

‘I wonder who put him in here.’

I frown at Liv’s tone. There’s an underlying meaning behind her words that I pick up on, and I don’t like it. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Well, the keys for this storage unit were found in your mum’s house, right? In her vase?’ says Liv.

‘Yeah, but … you’re not seriously suggesting that my mother had anything to do with this?’

‘No, of course not, but the bottom line is there’s a dead guy and a load of cash inside this storage unit, which have clearly been here for a while. The keys were found in your family home.’ Liv holds her hands up again, palms facing me. ‘Not pointing fingers, just making a general observation.’

I let out a long sigh. ‘You’re right, but I really don’t think my mother would have known about this … I can’t even think who he might be.’

Roan lets out a small moan in his sleep. I look up at Jennie, who is clutching her phone, hands trembling.

‘What are you doing?’ asks Liv, her attention now on Jennie.

‘C-Calling the police,’ replies Jennie, raising the phone to her left ear.

‘What?’ snaps Liv, lunging towards her.

Before I can react, Liv grabs the phone from Jennie, causing it to slip out of her hand and skid across the floor, colliding against the suitcase. The noise is amplified within the confines of the metal unit.

‘What’d you do that for!’ Jennie scurries to pick up her phone.

‘We’re not calling the police,’ snaps Liv.

‘Oh, no, of course we’re not. It’s not like we’ve just found a dead body,’ replies Jennie, dusting the dirt off her phone screen.

Liv turns to me, eyes wide. ‘Mel, listen to me for one second, okay? Before we do something we’ll regret, let’s talk about this.’

I open my mouth, but Jennie gets there first.

‘What’s there left to talk about? You find a dead body, you call the police. End of discussion.’

‘And yet, when we found the cash, you weren’t about to call them, were you?’ Liv snaps back.

‘That’s because I didn’t know there was a mummified body in a trunk right next to it!’

Liv huffs, running a hand through her short, spiky hair. ‘Just calm down, okay? Just take a moment and think.’

‘I am thinking,’ says Jennie. ‘And I think we should call the police.’ She pauses. ‘Mel?’

Now both my best friends are looking at me, waiting for me to give them the answer they want, but the truth is, I have no idea what to do.

I clear my throat. ‘Okay, listen, the way I see it, we have three options. Number one, we call the police and report both the body and the money.’

Jennie nods, making it perfectly clear that’s the option she wants.

‘Number two, we call the police and report the body, but not the money.’

There’s a deathly silence as we take in the words and what they really mean.

‘And number three,’ I say, swallowing a hard lump in my throat, ‘is that we don’t report either.’

The silence continues, but this time Liv breaks it after a few seconds. ‘That’s what I reckon we should do. Say nothing about either.’

‘What? How can you even say that? This is someone’s life we’re talking about here,’ says Jennie, the shrill voice returning.

‘Mel, come on. This guy is long dead. He has no life. What’s your choice?’ asks Liv, ignoring Jennie’s outburst.

‘I just … I don’t know. I need to think,’ I say, turning away from both of them. My mind isn’t working with them staring at me.

Jennie doesn’t give me any respite though. She comes and stands next to me, whispering, ‘Melanie, we can’t not say anything. It’s wrong. My baby is here. He could be an accomplice to murder.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ snaps Liv, clearly eavesdropping. ‘Will you stop being so overly dramatic? Roan isn’t an accomplice to anything let alone murder. He’s fast asleep, for a start, and for another thing, we haven’t actually murdered this guy. We’ve just found him.’

‘That doesn’t matter. Clearly, a crime has happened here, and it’s our duty to report it.’

She’s right. Of course she’s right. Anyone in their right mind knows that if you find a dead body, you call the police.

But this body is in a storage unit, and I found the keys in my family home, and there’s a lot of money involved. Money that could help all three of us, save us from losing our business, ensure we don’t have to stress about money for the foreseeable future.

‘Okay,’ says Jennie, taking a deep, cleansing breath like they do at yoga. ‘How about we report the body, but not the money, because I assume that’s why you’re reluctant to get the police involved, right, Liv?’

‘Well, yeah. I say we keep the money, but think about it … If we call the police and report the body, then there will be an investigation. Swarms of cops are going to descend on this place, and if we’re found to have kept back evidence, then we’re all going to be in a world of shit.’

Liv makes a good point.

‘And you think that by saying nothing, we’ll be safer?’ asks Jennie.

‘Hey, this guy’s been in here for years. If we hadn’t come along, he might never have been found. No one knows about him. No one is looking for this guy.’

Jennie shakes her head in disbelief.

Liv turns to me. ‘Right?’

I shrug ever so slightly. ‘I guess so.’

‘Look, let’s be honest, there’s roughly a hundred grand here. We could all use a bit of cash flow right now,’ continues Liv. She’s right. It’s wrong of me to think that the money belongs to me and that I should keep and use it all. I have no more right to its ownership than either Liv or Jennie.

‘What do you need money for?’ asks Jennie. ‘Your parents pay for everything.’

‘Yes, but they won’t give me money to move out. I only have access to their money if I live under their roof and do what they say. I’m sick of it. I want to be my own person. This money would mean I could rent a place of my own and start my own life, away from my parents.’

Jennie looks at the ground. ‘I had no idea your parents were so …’

‘Evil?’

‘Well … yeah. I’m sorry.’ Jennie gulps.

I step forwards, finally coming to a decision. ‘Okay, how about this? Let’s search the body for an ID, and maybe we can find out who he is first before we go firm on a decision.’

Liv nods. ‘Fine, but who’s going to search the corpse?’

No one makes a move or a sound.

‘Fine. I’ll do it,’ says Liv with a long exhale.

Neither Jennie nor I put up a fight, so we stand side by side several steps back from the trunk while Liv approaches, leans over and begins rummaging around.

‘Try not to touch anything,’ says Jennie.

‘It’s going to be rather hard to look for an ID if I can’t touch anything,’ snaps Liv.

‘Wait!’ I say. I leave Jennie and take my phone light over to the corner where I spied a first aid kit earlier. It’s old, dusty and has been used, but there’s a pair of plastic gloves inside, which I hand to Liv.

‘Lovely,’ she says, snapping them on like a surgeon.

I rejoin Jennie. ‘I don’t like this,’ she whispers to me.

‘I’m sorry I’ve got you into this mess,’ I reply.

Jennie wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.’

‘It’s just … I thought all I’d have to deal with this week was my mum’s funeral and sorting out her house, and now, the first thing I find in all that mess is a set of keys, which leads me to this …’

‘It does make you think, doesn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, about your mum. What else has she been hiding in her house all these years?’

Jennie’s question makes my mouth go dry, but before I can dwell on it, Liv stands up straight and closes the lid of the trunk. ‘Nothing.’ The gloves are dirty and have some black slime on them. Jennie gags as she spots it and turns away.

‘Gross,’ she says with a cough.

Liv pulls the gloves off and glances around, holding them with her fingertips. Then, she turns them inside out and stuffs them into her pocket. ‘I couldn’t see the cause of death. It’s a mess in there. Couldn’t see any broken bones though, which means whoever shoved him in there didn’t force him. He was probably newly dead when they did it.’

‘Great,’ I say, my voice laden with sarcasm.

‘Right … what now?’ asks Liv. ‘Mel?’

Both women are waiting for my response. Roan stirs in his pram, but Jennie doesn’t go to him.

‘I think Liv is right. If we report the body but not the money and we’re later found to have withheld evidence, we’d be in a lot of trouble. I also think that saying nothing about the body is wrong.’

Jennie nods her agreement, but I’m not finished yet.

‘I don’t know how Mum was mixed up in all of this, but I want to find out more before we go to the police. I think it’s wise that we don’t tell anyone about what we’ve found today … about any of it.’

Liv punches the air.

Jennie gasps. ‘You’re saying you want to keep the money and say nothing?’

‘Yes, but I will be searching through my mum’s house to find any further information about who this man is.’

Liv has already started dividing up the money, laying it out in neat piles on top of the suitcase. Jennie shakes her head and tends to Roan, who is now awake and making a fuss. She picks him up, soothing him as she places him on her left hip and bounces up and down on the spot.

I know she’s disappointed in me, but I can’t lose the business I’ve worked so hard to build. Mum’s funeral has also wiped out my savings because she hadn’t put anything in place before she died to cover it, and I’ve got debts and bills coming out of my ears and eyeballs. It could be months before my mum’s house is sold, and there’s the estate agent’s fees to pay, and everything else that comes with selling a house and settling an estate.

This money will solve all that, helping me deal with all the unexpected stuff.

Jennie stands next to me with Roan. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she says. ‘This decision will have ramifications if it goes wrong. What if someone comes looking for this cash?’

‘Like who?’ asks Liv, abruptly. ‘It’s been here years, by the looks of it. The notes look old, like they’ve been handled. They aren’t brand new. I think we’re in the clear.’

Jennie looks at me, perhaps hoping I’ll step in and argue her case more, but I don’t.

‘I’m sorry, but until I know more …’ I leave the sentence hanging.

Liv stands up. ‘There’s a smidge over one hundred and five thousand pounds here, which is thirty-five grand each,’ she says. ‘Mel, you can have the extra five hundred and ten pounds as a finder’s fee.’

We stand in a semicircle facing each other. Liv sticks out her hand. ‘We agree to not tell anyone about either the money or the body, right?’

‘Right,’ I say, placing my hand on top of hers.

Jennie huffs and moves Roan over to her other hip before putting her free hand on top of ours. ‘Deal,’ she says.

‘Drinks are on me tonight, girls!’ says Liv with a squeal.

I give her a faint smile, already feeling a bubble of anxiety growing in my chest.

Did we just make the wrong decision?

FOUR

JENNIE

I drop Liv off in town after listening to her prattle on about how she’s going to spend the money. I now know why she’s excited to have her own money, to not jump through hoops for it like she has to do with her parents, but it’s not her money. She hasn’t earned it. None of us have, and the more I listen to her, the dirtier I feel.

I keep my mouth shut because it never bodes well to argue with Liv, especially not with Roan in the car. I’m afraid I’ll lose my temper, and Roan’s been prone to feed off my emotions lately. He’s a proper Velcro baby, refusing to be separated from me even for a minute. I can’t go to the toilet in peace without him kicking off and screaming himself hoarse. Even now, he’s fussing in the back seat, reaching out his hands, wanting to touch me.

Liv jumps out of the car, clutching her bag against her chest as if she’s afraid someone’s going to rush past and steal it. We say goodbye – after she makes a joke about me not spending it all at once – and I drive home. My share of the money is stuffed into the changing bag next to Roan. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to think about it, but it’s the only thing on my mind as I pull into the driveway of my three-bedroom, semi-detached home.

Roan screams bloody murder as I unbuckle him from his car seat and carry him and the bag into the house, closing the door with my left foot. I dump the bag in the hallway and leave it there for the next few hours. I work mostly from home for our restoration business, as most of my tasks are online based – sorting the money side of things, doing the social media and liaising with antique shops and auctions. My job for the day is to upload the photos of Mel’s latest transformation, a gorgeous chest of drawers that she’s upcycled and painted with bright, bold colours, perfect for a child’s bedroom.

I feed Roan his bottle, then fix him a light snack, but most of it ends up on the floor, so I don’t know why I bothered. Liv messages the group chat during the day, wanting to meet up later this evening for celebratory drinks, but I say I can’t because there’s no one to look after the kids, which isn’t true because William will be home at half past five. But it’s better to tell a small lie rather than tell her and Mel that there’s nothing to celebrate.

I don’t want the money, but Liv shoved it in the changing bag anyway, saying I’d change my mind eventually. I won’t. I’m certain of that. We should never have taken it in the first place.

Beatrice is in preschool until three, so I pick her up, and we go to the park for an hour while Roan has his afternoon nap in his pram. I’ve brought the changing bag along again, and when he wakes up and needs a new nappy, it forces me to look inside for a clean one. My hand brushes the wads of cash at the bottom. I feel like a criminal, sitting out here in the open with so much money.

I change Roan on the park bench while watching Beatrice play with another child whose mum is sitting on the opposite side of the park, head lowered over her phone. I put the dirty nappy in a bag and store it in the section of the changing bag I reserve for soiled clothes.

I watch Beatrice play on the swings, in the sand pit and go down the slide at least fifty times. When she finally exhausts herself, we head home and start the usual preparation for dinner. Beatrice has just turned five and is now in that delightful phase where she hates something one day and loves it the next, so putting a plate down in front of her is like a lottery. Luckily, she doesn’t turn her nose up at the potato waffle, nuggets and baked beans I give her this evening. I make William and me a chilli con carne with rice. Roan has a selection of everything, but again, most of it gets thrown at the wall or at my face.

I duck a fistful of beans, then turn to William, who is sitting at the head of the table, eating in peace and scrolling on his phone, while I have the children on either side of me, struggling to keep the peace and my hair free from flying baked beans.

‘How was your day?’ I ask him.

‘Fine. Yours?’

‘It was, uh … eventful.’

Mel, Liv and I didn’t come up with a backstory with regards to the money, mainly because neither of them have other halves, so don’t have to explain themselves to anyone. But how do I explain the thirty-five grand in cash currently sitting in Roan’s changing bag to William without him asking where it came from? There’s no chance of him finding it there because he never looks in the changing bag, nor uses it.

William doesn’t respond to my eventful comment. I could probably tell him that I walked across the street naked, and he wouldn’t react because he rarely listens to me. Not really. He hears the words, but doesn’t take them in. Hell, I could tell him I found a dead body and a bag of cash, and he’d respond with ‘That’s nice.’ But I’m not about to test that theory.

‘Who are you texting?’ I ask, watching his fingers flying across the screen, his eyes like laser beams.

‘Huh? Oh. No one.’ He places his phone face down on the table and digs into his dinner. ‘This is good.’

‘Thanks.’

We spend a few minutes in silence while I spoon-feed Roan some beans. He slaps the spoon out of my hand, and it goes flying into the wall. Baked beans drip down to the carpet. I sigh, and William picks up his phone again.

Screw him.

I’m not telling him about the money. I don’t want it anyway, but if I do have to keep it, then I’m going to have to figure out how to get it into the bank account without arousing suspicion. Perhaps I’ll open my own account or put it in the business one. If only the notes were newer, then it wouldn’t be an issue. I could spend them slowly without having to put them in the bank or get them exchanged first.

I’m about to ask William what happened at work today when there’s a knock at the door. He checks his watch.

‘Bit late for the postman,’ he says as he gets to his feet.

I stand up to fetch a rag from the kitchen and start wiping the wall. Beatrice is painstakingly lining up her nuggets and beans in neat rows, and Roan is finding it amusing to smash the beans he has left into a paste.

Deep vocal tones come from the hallway, which piques my interest, so I leave the kids to do their thing and tiptoe closer to the hallway, staying out of sight behind the door.

‘I told you not to come here,’ says William, his voice a harsh whisper.

‘I wouldn’t have to come if you’d keep to the agreement,’ replies a deep, male voice.

‘Look, I’m sorry, okay? I need a little more time.’

‘Time’s up.’

I lose a bit of the conversation thanks to Roan screeching with laughter behind me.

‘You have one week to pay up,’ says the man.

‘Okay, okay, yes, thank you. One week.’

‘This is your last chance. My boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting. You know this. I’m just the messenger. Don’t make me deliver a message that’s a little more … painful. That’s your family in there, right?’

My heart practically leaps out of my chest. Beatrice moans behind me. ‘Roan! Stop it!’

William says something I don’t catch. The kids are now making so much noise that I can’t leave them any longer by themselves without it turning into a full-on meltdown, which could take hours to placate. I rush back to the dinner table and start cleaning up; all the while my head spins with what I’ve just heard.

You have one week to pay up.

Don’t make me deliver a message that’s a little more painful … That’s your family in there, right?

William sounded panicked. No. He sounded afraid.

Okay, okay, yes, thank you. One week.

One week. Then what happens? How much does he owe this man’s boss? Why hasn’t he told me about any of this? My mind immediately thinks of the wads of cash in the changing bag.

William walks back into the room and sits down at the table again, head lowered over his plate of food.

‘Who was at the door?’ I ask, attempting to keep my voice level.

‘Just a door salesman.’

‘What was he selling?’

‘A charity thing.’

My husband is lying to me.

I watch him for a moment, studying his body language, a body I know very well. Hell, not only have we performed numerous exotic sexual positions in the past – pre-kids – but I’ve squeezed the pimples on his back and checked his balls when he got a suspicious lump that turned out to be nothing. Yet, here he is, acting like he hasn’t lied to my face, and he doesn’t even have the decency to blush or turn away.

Somehow, I make it through the rest of the evening without demanding the truth from him. I get through bath time and bedtime with the kids, then finally sit down next to William on the sofa, the baby monitor nearby.

Today feels as if it’s been some sort of weird dream. First, the finding of the money, followed by the body and now my husband lying about owing someone money. As I watch the television – some football programme William has on – my body feels itchy, like it wants to move, like it knows there’s something I need to say. I don’t think I can ignore this, so I decide to go for the direct approach.

‘I overheard a bit of your conversation with the man at the door earlier.’

William doesn’t respond straight away, but slowly lifts the remote and pauses his programme. He puts down the remote, then turns to look at me. ‘How much did you hear?’

‘That you owe money to someone and that … that you have one week or he will come back. He threatened our family, William.’

William sucks in a breath and covers his face with both hands. ‘I’m so sorry. I never expected him to come to the house. Oh, God …’

‘Who is this person, and when did this all start? Please tell me the truth, William. How much do you owe? What was the money for?’

William removes his hands and lowers them to his lap. We sit side by side, barely touching, and I feel as if I’m sitting next to a total stranger.

‘It started about six months ago. You remember we missed that mortgage payment because some of the bills went out early and I had time off after my accident?’

I nod, remembering how stressful it was when William was off work with a broken leg after a silly drunken fall one night with his mates, and we didn’t have his normal income.

‘Well, during that time, I thought I could get a short-term loan from the bank to keep on top of things while I was off work, but, uh … I couldn’t keep up with the repayments, so I went to someone else for a loan.’

‘Who?’

‘A loan shark.’

My breath gets stuck in my throat as he continues.

‘I managed to pay off the loan from the bank, but the interest had gone up so much that I ended up paying back almost double what I borrowed. Then the loan shark increased his interest rates. Then we had to spend all that money when the car broke down, and then … then I lost my job.’

I react as if I’ve just been slapped across the face. ‘You lost your job? When!’

‘A month ago.’

‘A month! And you didn’t think to tell me? Where the hell have you been going every day if you haven’t been going to work? I had to leave Mel’s mother’s funeral early because you told me you had a work emergency, but if that’s not true, then what was the reason you left our children with our elderly neighbour whom I can barely trust to rescue our parcels from the doorstep when I’m not in?’ My voice is so shrill it carries upstairs, and I hear Beatrice let out a loud snore in her sleep. I check the monitor. She turns over and lets out a long sigh, so I lower my voice, not wanting to disturb her.

William shrugs like it’s no big deal. ‘I had a job interview. I’ve been going to a few and, you know … working cash in hand for a few people.’

‘What people?’

‘Just … people!’

‘Why did you lose your job?’

‘I, uh …’ William won’t look at me. He’s finding his fingernails very interesting. ‘I was caught stealing money.’

I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Who is this person next to me? Then again … I’m no better after the events of this morning. I’m worse. Maybe I can give him a break rather than yell at him for being so stupid and reckless.

‘I don’t understand why you didn’t come to me about all this. We’re married. We’re in this together. It doesn’t fall solely on you to provide for this family. I may only have a part-time job, but I could have helped, or we could have made the decision about the bank loan together.’

William shakes his head. ‘I know. I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I’ve ruined everything, and I don’t know how to fix it, and now I have a week to pay back everything I owe or … oh, fuck …’ William is close to tears, his face red and eyes watery.

‘How much do you owe?’ I ask calmly, thinking of the cash in the changing bag.

‘Fifty grand.’

Shit. Even using every note of my share isn’t enough to cover it. Only a few hours ago, I was convinced that I wanted no part of the money. I didn’t want it or need it. Yet now, it’s the only thing that’s going to save my family.

But it’s not enough. I need more. Twenty thousand pounds more. My family is in danger, and I have a week to convince either Mel or Liv to give me a portion of their share.

FIVE

LIV

After Jen drops me in town, I head straight to the bank and pay a couple of hundred quid into my secret account that I keep from my parents. At the age of thirty-five, I’m embarrassed to admit that I rely on them to pay for everything, but they refuse to let me move out and be independent. The only reason I’m allowed to work with Mel and Jen is that they don’t class it as a real job, seeing as I’m working with my friends. They see it as a fun hobby that I occasionally get paid for.

They have made it perfectly clear that as long as I live with them, do what they say and follow their rules, then I don’t have to pay for anything. That’s why I’ve been squirreling money away for the past few years after a major argument that saw me walk out of the house and live with Mel for a month. I had to return home though because Mum got sick, but then she miraculously got better a few days after I came back.

And the never-ending cycle continued.

Now, thanks to the large injection of cash I find myself in possession of, I finally have enough to live on, rent myself a flat, feed myself and pay the bills for the foreseeable future. I can’t live with them anymore. I can’t. I want to go out on dates, but they interrogate every guy I bring home, as if they’re on trial for murder. To be perfectly honest, I’d rather bring a girl home, but if they found out I’m bisexual, it may give them both a heart attack – which, come to think of it, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

My parents are strict, old-fashioned and blind to the modern age of dating and technology. Luckily, they barely give me the time of day unless I mess up. Then, I never hear the end of it.

The cashier doesn’t ask any questions about why I have old-style notes. I came up with a backstory and everything (my grandma found a stash she had hidden away for a rainy day and decided to give it all to me!), but it’s not needed. After I’ve paid the money into the account, I take out a hundred in cash and go and buy myself a new jacket and grab a takeaway coffee. I check the time, then head to work at our warehouse situated in a small industrial estate in the centre of town, not unlike the one with Mel’s storage unit.

Mel is already in and working on the next project. She doesn’t seem very talkative, but that’s nothing new. Mel’s always been the quiet one, but we get on well even though we don’t always see eye to eye. I ask her if she wants to go out tonight and celebrate, but she declines. As does Jen.

Both of them are a little dull sometimes. Jen is dull because she has kids and a husband, and Mel is dull because all she focuses on is work. I message the girl I’m casually seeing – Anrui – but she can’t meet me tonight because she has studying to do. She’s training to be a doctor and is in her final year. It’s nothing serious between us. She’s seeing other girls. I see other guys and girls. It works for us.

After work, Mel bids me goodbye, calling it a day earlier than usual. I close the warehouse and head to the pub. It’s only just after five, and I’m bored, not ready to go home yet. There has to be someone who can meet up with me.

Then, it comes to me. I don’t often message him, asking to meet. We normally text back and forth random memes or funny things we hear that day. Not every day, but most days. He’s an ex-boyfriend who has now turned into a good friend I genuinely enjoy hanging out with. He makes me feel wanted, and he still makes me laugh. There’s just one problem. He’s married.

Hey you. How’s it going? Fancy a drink later tonight around eight? I’m in a celebratory kind of mood xx winking face

I order a glass of red wine and take a seat out in the garden. The temperature is perfect, and I raise my face to the setting sun just as my phone buzzes on the table.

Hey. What’s the occasion? Sorry. Can’t right now. Just having dinner. Another time, maybe xx

My eyes roll to the back of my head. I should have known better. God, I miss him. I know I shouldn’t, and I know I was the one who broke up with him all those years ago, but he’s matured a lot since then. Me, perhaps not so much, but I admire him, and there’s just something about him that makes me feel safe.

I can’t very well tell him what I’m celebrating.

Yeah, another time. I miss you xx

I bite my lip, debating whether I should have added that last part, but then his reply makes my heart leap in my chest and gives me a buzz of excitement, which has nothing to do with the glass of wine now working its way through my system.

I miss you too, but we can’t spend time together alone. xx

Why not? xx

You know why. xx

I gulp back the rest of my wine and order another before typing out a reply.

Jen doesn’t care that we used to date when we were kids xx

Yeah, but I’d bet she’d care if she found out we slept together and are hanging out together xx

We slept together years ago, before you two got together. We’re just friends now, so what’s the issue? xx

Yeah, but …

But what, William? xx

My heart rate spikes as I wait for his response.

Listen, I have to go. We’ll meet up soon, okay? xx

I blow out a sharp breath and toss my phone into my bag, not bothering to respond. The alcohol coursing through my veins is not helping my state of mind. He’s weak. Jen wouldn’t care if we hung out as friends, I’m sure of it.

Despite this, I haven’t told her in as many words that we are friends and chat most days. It’s not like we do it often, but there have been a couple of instances lately, especially since his newest kid was born, when he’s made his escape from the house and we’ve hung out somewhere. In a weird way, I quite enjoy keeping our friendship a secret from Jen. We haven’t done anything that would warrant me going to hell for betraying one of my best friends, but I won’t lie – I’ve thought about it, but William wouldn’t cheat on his wife. I have to admire that about him.

The second glass of wine goes down smoothly. I make my way back to the bar to check out the array of spirits they have on offer, and lean against the side, making an effort to stick my ample backside out, which looks good in a pair of tight jeans.

‘Hi again,’ says a male voice next to me.

I turn my head to see a very attractive younger man leaning against the bar next to me. It takes my alcohol-infused brain a few seconds to recognise him.

‘Oh, hi. Isaac, right? Mel’s cousin?’ My first thought is why the hell is he still here after the funeral yesterday, but then my eyes travel the length of his body, and I decide to ignore my curiosity as to why he’s in the same pub as me.

He nods. ‘That’s right. It’s Liv, isn’t it?’

I nod and extend my hand. ‘It is.’

‘Good to see you again. Can I buy you a drink?’

‘I don’t see why not. I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

Isaac holds up two fingers to the girl behind the bar. ‘Two double Jack and Cokes and two sambuca shots.’

My eyebrows rise. ‘Wow, you’re on the heavy stuff already. I’m impressed.’

Isaac winks at me. ‘Well, it’s just been one of those days.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’

The cute girl behind the bar places two sambucas in front of us. We pick them up and clink, then neck them back. Isaac coughs, but I don’t flinch. It’s not my first rodeo.

We take our other drinks over to a corner where there are a couple of seats free.

‘So … Mel’s cousin … whom I never knew about until yesterday,’ I say as a conversation starter. He intrigues me. Not only is he good looking, but he’s much younger than Mel. Here he is. All six feet two of him, wearing a white shirt open at the collar, with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of jeans that would look great on my bedroom floor.

‘Ah, well,’ he says casually, ‘I don’t live around here.’

‘Where do you live?’ I ask, even though the real question I want to ask is ‘Why are you here?’

‘Stockport.’

‘Yet there’s no hint of a Northern accent.’

Isaac grins at me with his perfect white teeth. ‘My mum and I moved around a lot after my dad left us.’

‘Oh, sorry about that. I wish my dad would fuck off and leave us. Hell, both my parents could do with fucking off.’

He stares at me blankly, and I quickly take a large gulp of my drink. ‘Sorry, it appears that shot has gone straight to my head and loosened my tongue.’

‘No, I like it. You seem to be a woman who knows what she wants.’

‘I certainly am.’

We share a flirtatious smile. Oh, he’s definitely into me.

Is it wrong to find your best friend’s cousin attractive? It’s probably better than having deep-rooted feelings for your other best friend’s husband and hiding the fact that you text and meet up behind her back.

I rub my head and squeeze my eyes together at how much of a bad friend I am.

‘Something wrong?’ he asks.

‘No, just thinking that this place is really crowded and getting busy.’

‘How about we go somewhere more … quiet?’

Our eyes meet, and we share a knowing look. ‘Where did you have in mind?’

‘I have a great bottle of whiskey back in my hotel room.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Best Western.’

‘Let’s go, then.’

I knock the rest of my drink back, and he follows suit. He takes my hand and leads me out of the bar. By the time we reach his hotel, we can barely keep our hands off each other. I don’t want to think tonight. I just want to spend a few blissful hours not thinking.

It’s all getting too much. The fact that I’m trapped by my parents, being in love with my best friend’s husband, finding the money and not being able to spend it, finding a dead body …

Thankfully, Isaac does an exceptional job of distracting me, and after over an hour in his bed (and in the shower and on the chair), I pass out in an alcohol- and sex-induced coma.

My eyes peel open just as it gets light. I turn and see that Isaac is still fast asleep on his stomach, his head turned to the side, breathing gently. In the cold light of day, I don’t feel the same passion towards him as I did last night. It was fun, but that’s all it was.

I don’t leave him a note, nor do I leave him my number. I manage to get dressed and slip out of the hotel room without him stirring. I grab a taxi back to my parents’ house because I’m too old to be doing the walk of shame through town.

By the time I’m dropped at the end of the driveway, it’s almost six in the morning. My tongue is doing its best to stick to the roof of my mouth, and my stomach feels like something has died in it. At the thought of something dead, my mind goes back to the body and the wads of cash I currently still have in my bag. I put in the code to the grand front gates, then head up the yard to the huge house, which is worth over two million quid. It’s quiet as I let myself in, but I don’t make it to the top of the ornate staircase before my dad’s voice bellows from beneath me.

‘Seriously, Olive? How old are you?’

I sigh heavily and look over the banister at him on the floor below. ‘I’m thirty-fucking-five, Dad. In case you didn’t notice, I’m a big girl. I can stay out as late as I want.’

‘Not while you’re living under my roof you can’t.’ He walks up the stairs, his eyes boring into me. I’ve never been able to look him in the eye because I’m afraid that if I did, he’d be able to manipulate me like a puppet, just like he does with Mum. Or maybe I’d see that he has no soul and would be sucked into the fiery depths of hell.

‘I will not have my daughter coming home in the early hours smelling like she passed out in a bar and looking like a common street whore. You’re thirty-five years old, Olive. It’s about time you started acting your age.’

‘I couldn’t agree more, Dad. How about I move out and live my own life, then?’

Dad points to the door. ‘Be my guest.’

I shake my head and continue upstairs, knowing full well that I can’t just walk out the door. He knows I’ll be back, but what he doesn’t know is that I now have the means to rent my own place and stand on my own two feet for a change.

I can’t live with my parents anymore. It’s slowly killing me, and I’m afraid of what I might do if they push me too far.

It’s time to cut the cord from Mummy and Daddy Dearest.

SIX

MEL

After I say goodbye to Liv that evening, feeling guilty for turning her down to go out and celebrate, I head straight for the bank and pay a small amount in, enough to buy food for this week. Then I go to my favourite local takeaway and order my usual, paying for my food using my card.

It feels … wrong, somehow. To be spending money that I haven’t earned or that isn’t legally mine. I treat myself to a takeaway once a month, often buying more to share with either Liv or Jennie, or both, but today I feel like being alone, apart from my friends, almost as if we’ve done something shameful and being around them makes me feel dirty.

It’s true though. We have done something we should be ashamed of. As I sanded down a cabinet earlier today, all I could think about was the dead guy in the storage unit and how he wound up there with a suitcase of cash and clothes. And if the unit did belong to my mum or dad, then did they have anything to do with it? Did they know him?

There are so many possibilities, but not one of them makes any sense. Whichever way I look at it, someone, somewhere down the line, has lied or done something bad, and a man is dead and has been for a long time. The thought of my dear mum hiding a body in a storage unit and lying about it is almost laughable.

As I’m standing to the side of the counter, awaiting my order of egg fried rice, sweet and sour prawn balls and spicy prawn soup, I think back to one of my last decent conversations I had with her before she died, the last time she was properly compos mentis.

‘Oh, darling,’ she said when I asked her what she thought was her greatest achievement in life one day while we were having a cup of tea in the garden, ‘other than you … and Mary … I think it has to be my travels around the British coast back in the ’80s. You wouldn’t believe the sights I saw and the people I met. My mind may be going now, but I’ll always remember those times. They were special, you know.’

‘Whom did you travel with?’ I asked.

‘Mostly my sister.’

‘Mostly?’

‘And a very lovely man I was planning on marrying one day.’

‘You mean Dad?’

Mum just looked past me and smiled, then she’d blinked a few times, and it was as if a switch had been flicked off inside. She was gone.

‘Order fifty-seven!’

I jump back to reality and hurry to collect my order. ‘Thank you.’

‘Have a good evening,’ replies the man behind the counter.

I walk home on autopilot and tuck into my food while I flick absentmindedly through the channels. Mum’s favourite game show is on, so I watch it, smiling at some of the answers. She was a smart woman, even as she declined cognitively, often recalling things she’d heard from decades ago one minute, and then not being able to remember my name the next.

It was heart-breaking to see her deteriorate, but her sudden passing saved me from the true horrors of the disease. I’m glad about that in a morbid way.

Once I’ve finished my food, I rinse out the containers and put them in the recycling, then wipe down the counters. I keep a clean and tidy flat, something I’m proud of, which is why it pained me so much to watch my family home turn into an overcrowded dumping ground. It will do me good to clear it out.

I settle on the sofa for the night, but my mind won’t stop focusing on the storage unit and what we found inside. I check my emails for any response from Mason’s Storage, but there’s nothing. I try the number again, and the same response answers back.

‘This number is no longer in use.’

There must be something else I can try. How else do I confirm whom the unit belonged to? I go online and search for the company again, scrolling through their website for any contact information I may have missed. A picture of the reception area sparks my memory from earlier when Liv, Jennie and I were there, and I peered through the grimy glass.

All the paperwork was still inside the office.

If the answer as to who owns the unit is going to be anywhere, then it’ll be in there.

But the door is locked, and I don’t have a key. That really would be classed as breaking and entering if I tried to get inside. I’ll just have to hope and pray that someone responds to my email.

The television doesn’t hold my attention, so I switch it off, plunging my small flat into silence other than the low hum of activity in the unit below mine. It’s Saturday night; perhaps they’re having a party or a gathering of family and friends. It reminds me of how little I go out and socialise, but I’ve never been a social butterfly. Not like Liv, who, despite being the same age, seems to regress back to her early twenties a lot of the time. I think it has to do with how strict her parents are with her. I don’t blame her for pushing back and being rebellious. She’s never been free to live how she wants. Technically, she’s never properly grown up and had to deal with adult stuff apart from relationships, but even then, she dances around from one partner to the next, never settling long enough to form a meaningful attachment.

Liv had plans to be a research scientist or something along those lines, but her parents said she wasn’t smart enough and refused to pay for her to attend university because they were all too far away, and they didn’t want her mind to be swayed by drugs and alcohol and boys. It happened anyway. In fact, Liv’s persistent rebellion seemed to grow arms and legs. The more she pushed back, the more they restricted her, so I can completely understand why she needs this money.

But because they live close by, I doubt she’ll ever be free from them unless she moves far away, and the idea of Liv living elsewhere is upsetting because it’s always been the three of us. When Jennie got married and started a family, I thought our friendship dynamic might change. It did a little, since her kids always come first, but she’s still Jennie. She’s always been the level-headed one. The one who provides Liv and me with the mother figure we both need.

I sigh as I stand up and grab my keys. I’m not tired, and I know better than to go to bed and try to sleep. I’ll end up staring at the ceiling for hours on end, growing more and more frustrated as the sleepless minutes tick by. I may as well make myself useful, so I head back to my mum’s house for another look around. Perhaps there’s something else there that will help explain what we found earlier in that storage unit.

As I push open the door, a cool draft makes me shiver despite my warm jacket. The heating has been off for several weeks, so the air is stagnant and damp. The house itself was built in the 1950s and probably doesn’t have the up-to-code thermal installation and double-glazed windows of the modern builds.

The mounds of boxes, paperwork and general stuff instantly set my teeth on edge. I search around Mum’s old chair, checking the side pockets for anything that may enlighten my curiosity.

Nothing but old magazines, newspapers and discarded tissues. I cart the lot into the kitchen and make a pile for the recycling bin. Next, I head upstairs to Dad’s old office, which hasn’t been touched since he passed away fifteen years ago. The door is locked.

I give it a shove in case the mechanism is stuck, but no. It’s definitely locked. Why is it still locked? Surely Mum has been inside since he died? Giving a long sigh, I return downstairs in search of a set of keys. The key hooks by the front door, which should have keys on them, are completely empty.

Figures.

Dad’s locked office door is now more tempting than a cool drink after a long walk in the desert. It’s not about wanting to get in there. It’s a need.

Where would Mum store all the keys?

Towards the end, she’d tell me she was putting things away for safe keeping but then forget where she’d put them. If it was her who put the keys in the vase, then I wonder how long they’ve been in there. I’m no good with dating dead bodies, but considering the guy was a gooey mummy, I’d say he’s been there for several years, if not over a decade.

‘If I were a bunch of keys … where would I be?’ I say out loud to the empty yet overcrowded room. Then, as if by fate, my eyes land on a claw hammer resting on top of a box in the far corner of the room.

Well, it is my house.

It may be against the law to break into a reception area at a storage unit, but it’s not breaking any rules by forcing my way through a locked office door in my own home.

I take the hammer upstairs and get to work. I’m no expert, so it does take me longer than expected to break open the door, leaving a cracked and splintered piece of wood in its place.

I turn on the light and freeze on the spot.

Holy shit.

It’s like I’ve just stepped into the past. Has Mum never been in here in fifteen years? This was one of those rooms Mary and I were never allowed in, not even for a minute. ‘Dad doesn’t want you going in there. It’s not safe,’ Mum would tell us.

So we didn’t go in.

Now I know why.

The room isn’t so much an office as it is a shrine with a vast collection of antique medical instruments and surgical sets. The sight of items such as amputating saws, bloodletting tools, and dental keys is enough to turn my stomach, all lined up inside glass cabinets. Not one section of the wall is visible. There’s a desk in the middle, but there’s no computer. Just books and paperwork piled high, some of which have collapsed and slid onto the floor.

My brain attempts to figure out why Dad would want to collect stuff like this. Bone saws, old gynaecological equipment and scalpels. My upper lip curls in disgust, yet I’m also drawn to it with a morbid sense of curiosity.

Ignoring the creepy-looking items, I head over to the desk and begin searching through the drawers, finding sheets of paper, forms, letters and hundreds of unopened envelopes, all addressed to Dad. What is all this stuff?

I push a pile of newspaper clippings off the leather swivel chair and onto the floor, then take a seat behind the desk, already exhausted. My brain just isn’t focusing properly, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with all of this. Sell it, perhaps? It’s probably worth a small fortune, but where would I start?

‘Dad, what the hell were you doing in here?’ I ask out loud.

I lean forwards and skim all the pieces of paper and forms, searching for anything to do with Mason’s Storage, but there’s nothing familiar about any of it. Just numbers and letters from fellow collectors and certificates authenticating pieces of surgical equipment.

My eyes scan the words, searching for anything familiar, but nothing jumps out at me.

I lean back in the chair, still clutching a couple of the papers. Being in this room is freaking me out and messing with my head, so I put everything on the desktop, not bothering to put it back in the drawers, and leave, closing the door behind me. But because I’ve splintered the lock, it won’t fully close.

I head downstairs, feeling more frustrated than when I arrived, but at least I’m tired now. I need to sleep, so I head home, still thinking about the weird room that my dad had at the house that I knew nothing about.

I get into bed and pull my handbag in front of me, emptying the cash on my lap. I pick up a wad and flick through it. It’s possible that the money is fake, but when I went to the bank, no one batted an eyelid, but then I hadn’t handed them one of the fifty-pound notes.

I’ve seen cashiers use some sort of pen on higher-denomination notes before, but even if I had one, I wouldn’t know what I was supposed to be looking for. I’m no closer to finding out why the money was in the storage unit, along with a body, and the thought of spending any more of it makes me feel queasy.

As I sit among the notes, I make a decision.

Tomorrow, when I arrive at work, I’m going to put my share of the cash in the wall safe and leave it there until I know where it came from. That way, I won’t feel so guilty about spending it.

But I have a funny feeling that Liv won’t be feeling the same way.

SEVEN

MEL

Sleep eludes me for most of the night until I finally drift off sometime after three, but I’m jolted awake only a couple of hours later by a strange dream where a mummy wrapped in bandages is chasing me through a large warehouse full of storage boxes. No prizes for guessing what my subconscious has been wrestling with during the night.

My phone pings a message a little after seven. It’s Jennie, but she hasn’t messaged the group chat. She’s sent me a private message half an hour ago.

Can I give you a quick call? xx

I call her straight back without responding as I drag my fingers through my shoulder-length brown hair in lieu of a brush because it seems to have gone walkabout since yesterday.

‘Hey,’ she says, sounding a little out of breath.

‘You okay? What’s up?’

‘Bea, stop that! Sorry. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I was up fifteen times with the kids anyway, but I couldn’t stop thinking about … you know. Beatrice Michelle Smithson, if I have to tell you again to stop hitting your little brother with a spoon, then you won’t be getting any chocolate for a month.’

I wait a beat before replying, ‘I didn’t sleep either.’

‘We need to talk about this. We need to tell someone about the body. I can’t live with myself knowing there’s a dead guy hidden in a storage unit.’

‘What about the money?’ I ask.

Jennie sighs. ‘I need to speak to you about that too, privately, but not right now. Can we maybe all meet up at mine later for our usual work meeting at eleven?’

‘Yeah, no problem. I’ll text Liv now.’

‘Okay, thanks. Bye … Beatrice!’ The phone goes dead.

I text Liv separately from the group chat that we’ll have our usual late morning meeting at Jennie’s house, and she responds with a thumbs-up emoji. I wonder how she slept last night.

I head to the warehouse and let myself in after disarming the security system. I go into the small office at the back, which only contains a desk and a set of drawers, and pull my laptop out of my bag, setting it on the desk. I then move aside the drawers and open the wall safe, placing the cash inside. At least now it won’t weigh down my handbag, both literally and figuratively.

Liv isn’t due to arrive at the warehouse until later, if at all. I know she said she was planning on visiting some antique dealerships in the area today but will be back in time for the meeting. We don’t get together every day, but it feels right to do it now after what happened yesterday.

After sleeping on it, not all of us are on the same page despite us agreeing to it. I get on with some admin jobs, then distract myself by finishing off the painting project from yesterday. Jennie is due to post online about this piece tomorrow, so I need to get it finished by then and take pictures for her.

When I arrive at Jennie’s house at ten to eleven, carrying a trio of Costa coffees, she opens the door holding Roan on her hip. He’s only wearing a nappy and is sucking on a breadstick. Jennie’s hair is sticking up in the back.

‘Hi, sorry, come in,’ she says. ‘Liv’s already here.’

I step over the threshold. Jennie apologises a lot. I’m not sure if she’s aware that she’s doing it. I shuffle through into the living room and place the tray of drinks on the table that’s piled high with unfolded washing.

‘William at work?’ asks Liv. She’s made herself at home on the only part of the sofa that doesn’t have kids’ toys on it.

‘Uh … no, not today.’ I notice a hesitation to Jennie’s voice, but she doesn’t explain further. Liv frowns, stands up and grabs one of the coffees.

‘Let me just get Roan dressed.’ Jennie exits the room, and I hear her feet on the stairs.

Liv glances around the room at the scattered toys, crumbs and heaps of washing. ‘Should we offer to help tidy up?’ she asks. I know how allergic she is to kids’ things, and I’m not a fan of chaos and mess.

‘I’ll fold the washing. You put some of the toys away,’ I reply.

Jennie comes downstairs ten minutes later to find us tidying the living room. ‘Oh my God, it’s like having two cleaning fairies. Thank you girls so much.’

‘No problem,’ I say, handling a tiny blue onesie. I have no idea how they are supposed to be folded, but I do my best and place all the folded items into the washing basket, ready to be taken upstairs.

Liv sits back down on the sofa with her drink.

I clear my throat. ‘So, uh … I thought it might be best to start this meeting not by talking about work, but by asking how we’re all feeling after yesterday.’

Liv frowns and looks from me to Jennie and back again. ‘Why are you acting so formal? Usually, our work meetings involve gossip and laughs.’

‘Yes, I know, but after yesterday, I’m feeling a bit … Well, I mean … Jennie and I were thinking that …’

Liv leans forwards on the sofa. ‘Wait, you and Jen have been speaking about it behind my back?’

‘No, not properly or anything, and we haven’t done or said anything behind your back, but after sleeping on it, neither of us feel comfortable. I just think it’s worth talking about again.’

‘What’s left to talk about?’ asks Liv. ‘We’re already past the point of no return. If anything, what we should be talking about is how shit it is that we have all this cash but can’t spend any of it unless we put it in the bank first, which, of course, we can’t do all at once or we’ll risk setting off the HMRC tax alarm.’

Jennie places a now-dressed Roan in the middle of the now-tidy floor, and he makes a crawling beeline straight for the array of toys that Liv has neatly put away.

‘I don’t feel right knowing there’s a dead body somewhere,’ says Jennie. ‘The poor guy is dead, and the first people who find him decide to ignore him and take his money.’

Liv huffs. ‘It’s not like he has feelings anymore, is it? Fine. How about this? I move the body somewhere else and don’t tell either of you where.’

Jennie and I swap looks just as Roan pulls a toy out from the pile and the whole lot crashes down around him. He erupts into giggles, and Liv huffs again.

‘Liv has a point, but I don’t feel right with you moving it yourself. Still, it might be worth moving the body at some point,’ I say. ‘Mason’s Storage is technically still active. What if they decide to close it down completely and empty all the units one day?’

‘It didn’t look active,’ says Jennie.

‘No, but … I’m still holding out hope that someone will get back to me via email. I sent another this morning, and it didn’t bounce back, so the emails are going to an active account.’

‘Maybe it’s best you stop sending emails to them,’ says Liv. ‘You’re basically drawing a big red arrow to the storage unit we’re trying to keep a secret.’

Liv’s right. I hadn’t thought of that. If anyone does read the emails, then they’ll wonder why I’m so interested in the number seventeen storage unit.

Out of the blue, a thought occurs to me.

‘What about my cousin, Isaac?’

Liv’s head snaps up. ‘What about him?’ Her tone is defensive.

‘No, I mean … he asked me about whether my dad had anything of his uncle’s stored at the house. Could the storage unit keys be his? Or …’ Another light bulb moment. ‘Oh, shit, what if the body is my uncle? Uncle Kevin.’

Liv screws her nose up. ‘Why would you assume it was your dear old uncle Kevin?’

‘Well, he left Isaac and his mum really suddenly fifteen years ago, around the time he and my dad had a massive falling-out.’

‘Are you saying your dad killed him and hid him in a storage unit?’

An icy shiver runs down my spine. ‘No, I … at least, I don’t think so. No.’ I say it more to convince myself rather than either Liv or Jennie. Jennie hasn’t said anything yet, but her focus is on Roan, who is now putting toys in his mouth one by one, testing them out as to which one he likes best. ‘I just think that Isaac’s arrival at the funeral is a bit … odd. Why would he come to my mum’s funeral?’

‘Because he’s family?’ answers Liv, still with the same tone.

‘Yes, but he wasn’t close family. He was a kid when he last saw my mum. He barely knew her.’

‘Look, I think you’re overthinking this whole Isaac thing,’ says Liv. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to get him involved. If you start asking him questions about his dad or the storage unit, then he’ll want to know more, and he might start digging around. The fewer people who know about the storage unit, the better, wouldn’t you say?’

I nod, agreeing, but threads of suspicion start unravelling in my head.

‘Jennie, what do you think?’ I ask, turning to her just as she bends to the floor and grabs a random piece of stale food out of Roan’s grubby hands.

‘I think Liv’s right.’

My eyebrows rise. I was not expecting Jennie to agree with Liv. It’s a very rare occurrence that they see eye to eye on anything, except their agreement that prawn toast is the work of the devil. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I won’t contact him. By the way, I’ve put my share of the cash into the safe at work until I know what to do with it.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ says Jennie.

‘Fine by me. I’m going to slowly put it into my secret bank account a little at a time, but it will take months, if not years, before I’m able to use all of it and get out of my parents’ house.’

‘I guess finding a load of cash isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘It just gives us more problems.’

Jennie looks at the ground. She said earlier she wanted to speak to me privately about the money, but she hasn’t made any move to get me alone.

‘What about the body, then? Are we moving it or leaving it?’ asks Liv.

I shake my head, not liking the answer, but knowing it’s the simplest one for the moment. ‘We’ll leave it where it is for now, and if I don’t hear anything back from Mason’s Storage in a few days, then we’ll speak about it again then.’

Everyone agrees with matching head nods, but the room is weirdly silent apart from Roan’s babbling and giggling. All three of us watch him play and explore, and I find myself thinking how innocent human beings are at the start of their lives, but by the time they are grown, that innocence is gone, replaced with lies, secrets, betrayal, greed, hate and every other bad emotion and trait.

Whoever that man is, whether he’s my uncle or not, he got himself into a mess that he wasn’t able to get out of. And whoever put him there has committed the ultimate sin.

‘Another drink before you leave?’ asks Jennie.

My cup of Costa coffee has already gone cold on the table. ‘No, thanks. I’d better get going and photo that chest of drawers to send to you later.’

‘Yeah, thanks. I’ll get all the invoices done and sent off to clients by the end of the day.’

‘Thank you. Good luck with your antique deals today, Liv,’ I say, getting to my feet.

‘Yeah, should all go okay. I’ll keep you updated.’

We say goodbyes with quick hugs, but I linger back, watching Liv head towards her car. Jennie and I stand in the doorway.

‘Did you want to talk to me privately about the money?’ I ask her.

Jennie gulps and shakes her head. ‘Oh, no, it doesn’t matter. I, er … our talk just now has sorted it all out.’ She avoids eye contact and looks behind into her living room, where Roan is crawling. ‘I’d better get back to him,’ she says.

She wants me to leave, so I give her a small smile and say goodbye once more. As I walk down the garden path towards the road, a strange, uneasy feeling makes its home in my gut. Something doesn’t feel right. It’s not as if we really sorted out the whole money fiasco with our chat earlier.

I’m not quite sure what’s going on with Jennie, but I think she and Liv are wrong about questioning Isaac. He’s my cousin, after all, so I take out my phone, scroll to his number and press call, going against the wishes of the group.

He doesn’t answer my call, so I leave him a voicemail and get into my car, heading back to the warehouse to do some admin jobs while I wait for Isaac to get back to me. I set up the laptop on the desk, log in and open the business inbox.

A new email catches my eye. It’s from an unknown address, so I’m not quite sure how it’s made it past the spam filter.

I click on it because the heading says:

To Melanie, Olive and Jennie

The blood pounds in my ears, sending the room spinning.

The words on the screen come to life. I can’t speak. Can’t move as I look down at the laptop and read the words in the body of the email.

I know you have all the money, and I want every single penny.

All 1.2 million of it.

If not, you’ll pay with your lives.

EIGHT

MEL

I’m so stunned, so taken off guard that I barely notice my phone vibrating in my pocket. It’s there, buzzing away, sending tingles down my legs, but all I can focus on are the words on the email.

All 1.2 million of it.

If not, you’ll pay with your lives.

My mouth turns dry as I finally swallow the lump that’s there and answer the phone, keeping my eyes glued to the words, as if I’m expecting them to disappear into thin air.

‘Er … Hi, Isaac,’ I say, frowning at the email still. My voice is low and tense.

‘Hi, Mel. Everything okay? You sound weird.’

I clear my throat. ‘Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for calling me back so quickly.’ I switch to a bright and breezy voice, not at all how I feel inside.

The longer I stare at the email, the more my body shakes.

‘No problem. It’s great to hear from you. Yes, I’d love to meet for a catch-up. I’m still in the area. Are you free to grab some lunch in an hour?’

I finally drag my eyes off the screen, focusing on the present. ‘Uh, sure. That sounds great.’

‘Where do you recommend?’

‘There’s a late breakfast and lunch place called Grace’s on the corner by the Costa.’

‘Ah, yes, I saw it yesterday while out and about in town. Meet you there at one?’

‘See you then. Bye.’

‘Bye, Mel.’

My throat is so dry after our conversation that I have to swallow and lick my lips. My eyes automatically swivel back to the email. The words are still there. I didn’t hallucinate them.

What does this mean?

Who the hell would know about the money we found?

We only found a little over a hundred grand, and now there’s a mysterious person accusing us of having over a million? It makes no sense.

What if it’s a bluff? Or a lie to get us to take them seriously? The threat on our lives is enough to emit a spike of adrenaline through my heart, but the prospect of there being over a million pounds at stake is enough to … it’s enough to completely derail my friendship with Liv and Jennie if this goes wrong.

I can’t tell them. Not yet.

Liv will spiral and not rest until she’s found that money, and Jennie will demand we go to the police again. A million pounds is a huge leap from a hundred grand.

I have to keep this to myself. For now.

I’ve never been good at deceit or lying. Once, I lied to my mum about who spilled ketchup all over the dining room floor. I blamed Mary, then stood in the corner with my mouth shut. Mary kept glaring at me, expecting me to jump in and admit it was me, but I didn’t. Ten minutes later, I got a horrendous stomach ache and felt all fluey. I couldn’t stand the queasiness any longer, so I owned up to what I’d done and was sent up to my room with no pudding for lying.

That’s how I feel now. Queasy. Because not only am I keeping what we found in the storage unit a secret, but I’ve also gone behind Liv’s and Jennie’s backs and intend to question Isaac about his father. On top of that, I have to keep the contents of this email a secret too. I store the email in a new folder so Liv or Jennie won’t stumble across it, and then close the laptop with a sinking feeling settling in my stomach.

I need to know for certain whether it’s Isaac’s father who’s lying in that trunk, all dried and shrivelled.

At least I’ll know how to proceed, and if it’s not him, then …

Well, I suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it – Mum’s favourite saying.

A little after one, I push open the door of Grace’s and spot Isaac straight away, sitting at a corner table. He waves me over and gives me an awkward hug when I approach him, then pulls my chair out for me. I take off my light jacket and place it on the back of the chair.

‘Thank you,’ I say.

We both take a seat. I have no idea where to start, but I suppose there’s no point in diving straight into the subject because it will arouse his suspicion. He’s my cousin, after all, and we’re here to catch up, even though all my mind can think about is that damn email.

‘This is such a nice place,’ says Isaac, picking up the menu. He’s a little flushed. ‘I need a decent meal after last night.’

‘What happened last night?’ I ask, copying him, although I always end up ordering the same thing when I’m here: a stack of fluffy pancakes with crispy bacon and maple syrup.

‘Oh, I, er … met up with someone and had one too many drinks.’

‘Ah,’ I reply, although it’s a little odd that he would have met up with someone. Considering he doesn’t live here, I assume he doesn’t know anyone, but I don’t question him further.

‘How are you?’ he asks. ‘You know, after the funeral?’

‘Oh, well, it was a long day. I ended up leaving the wake early and heading to my mum’s house, but it was a mess. I honestly don’t know where to start with clearing it out.’ I briefly wonder if he’ll ask about his father again. It would be easier if he brought up the subject so I don’t have to.

‘I remember when your mum babysat me once. She fed me chocolate chip ice cream, and when my dad came to pick me up, I was running around the house with a wooden spoon and a saucepan, pretending I was in a band.’

I stifle a giggle. ‘Were you not allowed ice cream?’

‘No. She made me promise not to tell my parents, but he could tell straight away that I was hyped up on sugar.’

A waitress approaches, and we place our orders. I order my usual, and Isaac orders a full fry-up despite it being lunchtime.

Once we have our drinks, Isaac asks, ‘What is it you do now?’

‘I buy and restore antique furniture with my two best friends, Jennie and Liv, whom you met at the funeral. Well, you met Liv, anyway.’

Isaac is in the middle of taking a sip of his black coffee. He splutters slightly. ‘Oh, wow … that’s cool, so you’re self-employed?’

‘Yes. I love it. The other two work part-time, but I work most days. It’s a true passion of mine.’

‘Awesome.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a cop.’

I’m not quick enough to cover up my surprise and utter shock at this revelation. My eyes widen, and I gasp audibly.

‘Ha, you weren’t expecting me to say that, were you?’ he asks with a laugh.

‘Little Isaac is a cop?’ I say with a chuckle. Inside, my stomach is swirling. Damn it, I should have listened to Liv. It was a mistake to reach out to Isaac, but I try to keep my tone light. ‘No, I wasn’t, although I vaguely remember you being obsessed with dressing up as a police officer for Halloween once.’

‘Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that. To be honest, I’m actually on leave at the moment. About a month ago I was involved in a particularly bad case, and it kind of messed me up in the head. I’m in counselling for a bit but am hoping to return to work in the next few weeks.’

‘Gosh, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine the sort of cases you’d be involved in.’ I quickly pick up my glass of orange juice and take a sip. My nerves are jangling, and my heart rate is spiking.

‘Thank you. Yes, it’s been an eye-opener for sure, but I love being a cop and trying to make a difference. I’m just taking some time right now to focus on my mental health.’

‘That’s very understandable.’

Isaac clears his throat. ‘Listen, I hate to change the subject, but I was wondering if you’ve remembered anything about when my father and your father had that falling-out just before mine left?’

I fight to keep my hand steady as I return my glass to the table. ‘Oh, I … I’m not sure. I was twenty at the time and didn’t live at home. I was at university then. I know our fathers were always close as brothers, especially with them being twins.’

‘Yes, they were close, but I never saw the similarities. They were fraternal.’

I nod, agreeing. My dad and Uncle Kevin didn’t look anything like each other. No different than any normal male siblings would. ‘I remember Mum telling me that my dad had an argument with Uncle Kevin.’ As I talk, I keep my focus on Isaac’s body language. He’s leaning forwards across the table towards me, so I keep my back up against the back of my chair. ‘But I never got the chance to find out more because within two weeks, Dad died.’

‘I remember hearing about his passing. Gosh, that must have been such a shock. How did it happen?’

‘A sudden heart attack. He was dead within minutes of it happening, alone in his office. Mum found him over an hour later.’ A lump forms in my throat, and I quickly cough to try to clear it as tears burn my eyes.

Isaac reaches across the table and squeezes my arm. ‘I’m so sorry. I know my dad didn’t die, but he left me and my mum so suddenly that it felt like a similar loss.’

I sniff and remember the reason I agreed to go behind my friends’ backs. ‘And you still have no idea where he went or why?’

Isaac removes his hand and leans back in his chair. ‘He left with no explanation. I was young, so I didn’t understand, and I guess I still don’t. Mum said he left us for another family, but he loved me. Why would he leave without a goodbye or an explanation?’

At this point, the waiter arrives with our food, and we spend the next few minutes tucking in and commenting on how delicious it is, but I’m like a dog with a bone. I can’t let this go. I need to find out more, but it’s clear that poor Isaac is as much in the dark as I am.

Then, I remember something …

‘Did, uh … did Uncle Kevin, your dad, did he own anything valuable or, I don’t know, own a family heirloom or anything like that?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘I, uh … found this old watch in dad’s office, but I don’t remember him ever wearing it.’

Isaac takes a bite of toast and chews for a few seconds before swallowing. ‘Now that you mention it, he used to wear this ugly flashy watch. I think it was a gold Rolex, but I’m almost certain it was fake. He used to wear it for show. What does this watch you found look like?’

My heart leaps.

‘Oh, it’s just an old brown thing. Never mind.’

I avoid his eye contact and focus on my food, but my mind is racing.

It’s true.

The dead man in the trunk is Isaac’s father – my uncle Kevin. Isaac’s mention of the gold Rolex confirms it. Did Dad kill him and hide his body there, or did something else happen?

I spend the rest of the meal completely distracted with this new nugget of information, but I do my best to keep up with the conversation, which swiftly moves on to more about Isaac’s career and how his mother is doing.

I can’t think about anything else other than the fact that his father is dead. What about the money he had with him? Where did that come from? And, more importantly, where’s the rest of it, if the email I received is to be believed?

Yet more questions with answers I need to find, all while hiding everything from my two best friends until I know more.

NINE

JENNIE

When Mel and Liv leave after the meeting, I close the door gently, then lean against it, heart racing. Roan squeals in delight from the other room. I wanted to speak to Mel privately so I could tell her about William’s money issues, in the hopes that she would offer to give me some of her cash to cover the remainder. But I chickened out, too afraid she’d say no, or she’d change her mind and want to hand it all in to the police. Now that my family is in danger, I can’t risk handing the money in and doing the right thing, even if it feels wrong.

During the meeting, Mel revealed that she had put her share of the cash into the safe at work, the same safe that I have the code for. Can I do it? Can I steal from my best friend? Mel would never believe that I would do it. She’d blame Liv for sure, and then it would cause an unrepairable rift between all three of us. Mel doesn’t seem that bothered about spending the money, so would she miss it if it were gone?

I take a breath, trying to kick-start my tired brain into thinking rationally. I’m a good person and a good friend. I can’t steal from Mel. I won’t. I will try to summon the courage to ask for her help like I planned to do in the first place. I’m certain she’ll bend over backwards to help me.

Roan screams for me, having clearly been out of his sight for too long, so I go and tend to him. Before I do the bits of work for Mel today, I need to pop out for a big food shop. It’s a task I hate doing because it takes at least two hours by the time I’ve wrangled Roan in and out of the car, changed him at least twice, done the shop, forgotten more than one thing and had to go back in, packed the car and driven home. But it needs to be done.

I’m so grateful to Mel and Liv, who tidied the living room earlier, even though Roan has already caused more mess by smashing food into the carpet. I scoop him up and give his bum a sniff. He’s good to go, so I grab the changing bag, check to make sure my purse is in there, then head out the door. It’s not until I reach the car and go to turn it on that I realise I’ve forgotten Roan’s favourite toy, so I rush back in to fetch it before he starts screaming bloody murder.

The shopping takes ages. Roan is in the trolley seat and keeps grabbing things and kicking his legs, attempting to escape at every opportunity. A few other mums pass, and we share a knowing, tired smile. Mums get it. When I reach the checkout, the lady tells me the total, and I put my card in the reader and type in the PIN.

Card declined.

I try again, but the same thing happens.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘Let me just check I’ve got the right PIN.’ I grab my phone and scroll to my list of passwords and usernames because I can never remember them all. The PIN is correct.

‘Do you have another card?’ asks the cashier, her face fixed in that polite expression that all service people are taught to do when faced with this situation.

‘Um …’ I dig around in the changing bag, but I already know there won’t be one. I only carry the debit card in my purse, and until last night, I thought we didn’t have a credit card, so I don’t have access to it. Although William says it’s maxed out anyway. ‘No, I’m sorry … I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s the correct PIN.’

And then it dawns on me. There’s no money left on the debit card because my liar of a husband has used it all. I’ve never had this problem before. There’s always been enough on the card to buy groceries and pay the bills, except … now there isn’t.

My fingers touch the wads of notes at the bottom. I can’t even use them to bail me out of this embarrassment because the notes are out of date and no longer useable as legal tender.

‘I’m so sorry. I … I can’t pay.’

My face heats as I fight to blink back the tears. Roan squeals and decides this is the perfect moment to spit his dummy out on the floor. I squat down and pick it up, but it’s covered in dirt. I brush it off on my coat and hand it back to him as I lift him out of the trolley seat.

‘Do you want me to set everything aside for you to come back?’ asks the cashier. Clearly, she’s feeling embarrassed on my behalf because her cheeks are also red.

‘Uh, I … yes, please, can you? I’ll be back within an hour.’

She nods and begins the process. Someone comes along and pushes my trolley full of food, all packed in bags, to the side. By the time I return, the frozen items will be halfway to being defrosted.

I hold Roan tight as I rush out the automatic doors and into the car park. The second I’m out of the awkward situation, I suck in a breath, but the tears come before I can stop them. Roan must sense my unease because he also starts wailing and kicking his legs.

‘Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Mummy’s okay.’ I kiss his downy, soft head and breathe in his comforting smell, instantly soothed. I take him to the car and strap him in.

I sit in the driving seat for several minutes, contemplating my options. I can’t use the cash in my bag directly, and the card is maxed out. My only option is to head into town, pay enough cash into the joint account to cover the groceries and then return to the shop to pay.

The nearest bank is fifteen minutes away, so I put the car in gear and pull out of the parking space. My nerves and heart rate are still elevated after the checkout incident, so at first, I don’t notice the large black Toyota behind me. But after five minutes, it’s still there. Navigating to the car park I intend to use involves several turns and roundabouts, and when I park in a vacant space, it pulls up alongside me.

A tingly chill runs down my spine. I don’t want to be too obvious, so I glance surreptitiously out the window, as if I’m scanning around for someone, to see if I can spot who’s in the driving seat. Whoever is inside hasn’t exited the vehicle yet and is staring straight ahead, not making a move.

Are they waiting for me?

Swallowing my nausea, I get out and begin the routine of taking out the pram and getting Roan strapped into it. The bank is a five-minute walk from here. A car door opens and closes behind me.

My heart rates spikes.

I stand up straight after clicking Roan’s straps into place and turn to grab the changing bag from the footwell, my hands trembling.

That’s when I see a man watching me, leaning against the back of the Toyota with his arms folded. The prickle of unease I had swiftly shifts into mind-numbing fear as I grab the pram handle, for no other reason than to ensure I keep my baby close and safe.

‘Hello, Jennie,’ the man says in a light yet direct tone.

That voice. I recognise it straight away. I didn’t see the man whom William had spoken to last night, as I’d been hiding myself, but his voice is distinct: a Northern accent with a lighter pitch.

‘I … I’m sorry, but do I know you?’

‘No, but I know you, and I know your husband. Perhaps a little too well.’

‘Who are you?’

‘It doesn’t matter who I am, but what does matter is the person your husband owes money to, and they don’t like to be kept waiting.’

I take a breath, realising I’ve barely inhaled since I first noticed him standing there. He still hasn’t moved a muscle; he just continues to lean against his car with his arms crossed. It’s menacing, threatening enough to make me glance around for any passer-by who could help. But what would anyone do? Would anyone come running to my aid if I were to shout out for help?

‘You came to see William last night, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You threatened me and my children.’ I pull the pram closer. Luckily, Roan is facing away from the man, so he can’t see him. He’s too busy trying to unstrap himself. ‘You gave him a week, so why are you following me now?’

‘Let’s just say that I wanted to make sure your husband understands. You see, after speaking to my boss, they aren’t happy about waiting a week. I’ve been as lenient as I can with William, but I’m afraid I’m going to need some sort of down payment. You know, just to keep everyone happy.’

‘What makes you think I can pay you money? I only found out that William was in debt last night.’

‘Ah, now, I can’t tell you how I know, but let’s just say I know you have more than nappies and wipes in that bag of yours.’

The breath is sucked from my lungs as I swivel my eyes to the changing bag draped over the handles of the pram.

How the hell does he know about the cash?

My mind spins, desperately attempting to figure out how he could possibly know, but he quickly snaps me out of my daze when he says, ‘I don’t have all day, Jennie. Either hand it over, or I will remove it forcibly.’

The maternal instinct to protect my child kicks in as I step straight in front of the pram. ‘Please, I don’t … there’s not enough to cover the full amount.’

‘That’s okay. Like I said, consider it a down payment. How much do you have?’

I gulp, my mouth sapped of moisture. ‘Thirty.’

The man’s eyebrows rise. ‘Wow, Jen, that’s impressive. Don’t worry. I don’t care where you got it from.’ He gives me a wink.

‘It’s, uh … it’s in old-style notes.’

He shakes his head. ‘That won’t be a problem.’

I nod. ‘O-Okay, just … give me a minute.’ I turn my back on him and reach my hands into the changing bag, pulling out the notes and stuffing them into a spare nappy bag. I keep five grand as a buffer for bills and groceries, then turn back to the man.

He steps closer slowly, eyes never leaving mine. I hand him the nappy bag, and he takes it with an amused smirk. ‘Many thanks, Jennie. Now, you only have another twenty to go to make it an even fifty. Do you think you can get that to me by the end of the week?’

I’m struggling to take a full breath, feeling as if a strap is around my chest, getting pulled tighter and tighter. ‘I … yes, I can get you the rest.’

‘There’s a good girl. Hell, it looks like I’ve been dealing with the wrong spouse. You’re a good one.’ He reaches out his spare hand and gives me a chuck under my chin. I flinch away, not wanting him to touch me. He smiles. ‘I’ll see you soon, Jennie.’

He gets into his Toyota and drives out of the car park. I wait until the vehicle is out of sight before I allow my legs to collapse beneath me. I sink to the ground, still clutching the pram and crying. Huge sobs shake my whole body. The adrenaline is pumping so hard I feel as if I’ve just sprinted around a track like I used to do at school.

Several people walk past me, but not one of them stops to ask if I’m okay.

Eventually, I pull myself to my feet and head to the bank so I can afford to feed my children for the next week. As I walk, pushing the pram and praying Roan doesn’t pick up on my emotions, I question how the hell that man knew about the cash.

And if he knows, then who else might know?

TEN

MEL

Isaac and I say our goodbyes an hour later, promising to meet up again before he heads home. He never got around to explaining why he was here for so long, nor when he was returning to work. I didn’t press him because, frankly, it’s none of my business, but later that day, it starts bugging me, like an annoying fly buzzing around my head.

Why is Isaac here for so long after the funeral? Why didn’t he go straight home?

I’m finding it difficult to let it go. He was perfectly nice during our chat, and we swapped childhood stories and reminisced about a few things, but I did feel he was pushing me on certain topics, mostly around my dad. He wanted to know details about his job and his last movements before his own father left. I get the feeling that Isaac may think that my dad knew where his dad went, but he knows my dad’s dead, so he’s trying to get information out of me.

I’m not quite sure what to think, and now that I’m certain I know where his dad is, it fills me with enough guilt and dread that I soon get a tension-type headache, which painkillers don’t soothe.

After work, I go home and try to spend a normal evening by myself, cooking and watching television, but my mind keeps returning to my mum’s house and the amount of clutter and items that are stored there. Surely, there’s something in that house that can tell me more about the storage unit and what happened?

But my head hurts too much to do anything about it tonight, so I go to bed. Jennie and Liv will be at our warehouse tomorrow, so we’ll all be together. I need to share what I know, but the prospect of telling them I’ve brought Isaac into all this is one that doesn’t fill me with joy. Not to mention he’s a police officer. Liv’s going to go nuts when she finds out. I’m still not going to reveal anything about the email I received, or the notion of there being over a million pounds at stake. Liv would be like a loose cannon, hell-bent on finding it, and I think the less time we spend at the storage unit, the better.

Coffee helps me feel more human the next morning, but the caffeine ensures my heart rate remains high as I unlock the warehouse and set the laptop up, ready to turn it on and answer any emails that may have appeared overnight from clients. I leave it alone for now.

Liv walks in, wearing tight jeans and a trendy leather jacket that looks new. ‘Morning,’ she says, sounding bright and cheerful.

‘Good morning. How did you get on yesterday with the dealers?’

‘Oh, yeah, good. I managed to secure us a prime position in the next auction on the twenty-fifth next month, and I’ve got a buyer lined up for the three matching kitchen stools you’ve been working on.’

‘That’s great, Liv. Well done. Have you heard from–’ My sentence is cut short when Jennie walks in. She doesn’t have Roan with her. I can’t remember which days she does or doesn’t bring him in, but it never bothers me when she does.

I almost gasp when I see the dark bags beneath her eyes and her pale skin. I know she doesn’t sleep well – she’s a mother to two young kids – but she looks considerably more sleep deprived than usual. Perhaps one of the kids is sick.

‘Jennie, are you all right?’ I ask.

‘Yes. Fine. Roan was up all night. That’s all.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay to work today?’

‘I need the money.’

‘Right, but–’

‘I said I’m fine, Mel.’

Her snappy tone shuts me down instantly. Liv and I swap concerned glances, both of us surprised at her reaction. Jennie hardly ever raises her voice or gives us a hard time, other than perhaps in the storage unit when we found the body, but otherwise, she’s fairly chill when it comes to work. She can become stressed when her children are around, but that’s normal.

‘Okay, well, I actually have some news to tell you both,’ I say, deciding to get it over with now rather than sit with the news for any longer than needed. It’s eating me up inside. Just rip it off like a plaster.

‘Oh?’ asks Liv, taking a seat in the chair behind the desk and propping her legs up on the desk, crossing her feet at the ankles.

Jennie takes a seat in the other chair in the corner, and I stand awkwardly at the side, fiddling with the skin around my nail beds, which are becoming raw.

‘After we spoke yesterday, I, uh … reached out to Isaac and asked him out for lunch.’

‘You did what!’ Liv flies forwards, her legs falling off the desk. She grips the arms of the chair with claw-like fingers. ‘I thought we agreed to keep him out of it? What the hell?’

‘Yes, we did, and I’m sorry, but he’s also my cousin, and I fancied catching up with him after so many years.’ Not exactly true, but it seems to placate Liv somewhat. She makes a childish face and returns to her position.

‘Did you learn anything?’ asks Jennie.

‘Yes. I did. You know the body was wearing a gold Rolex? Well, Isaac’s father – my uncle Kevin – had a gold Rolex too. Isaac asked if I’d seen it in my mum’s house.’

Liv’s eyes widen. ‘Shit …’

‘Oh my God! The dead guy is your uncle?’ exclaims Jennie.

‘It’s a high possibility, yes.’

‘Any idea how he got there?’ asks Liv.

‘No. Isaac is still under the impression that his dad left him and his mum fifteen years ago to start a new life with a new family. That’s what his mum told him, and that’s what my dad told me and everyone else.’

‘Where’s his mum now?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Did you find out anything else?’ asks Liv, still with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

‘Yes.’ I take a deep breath. ‘He’s a cop.’

Jennie sucks in a breath.

Liv, on the other hand, glares at me without blinking for several long seconds. She finally throws her hands up in the air, launches herself out of the chair and turns her back on me.

‘Liv, I know what you’re going to say …’

‘Oh, really? You do?’ She spins around, nostrils flaring, eyes blazing. ‘I fucking knew something like this was going to happen, Mel. Why do you think I told you not to get someone else involved? And now … he’s a cop! For fuck’s sake!’

‘Okay, look, I understand why you’re angry, but nothing has changed. In fact, we’re now better off because we know who the dead guy is, right? Isaac knows nothing. I didn’t tell him about finding the keys to the storage unit or anything like that. There’s no reason for him to suspect anything.’

‘I’m not suspecting him of anything. I’m merely concerned that he’s going to start asking questions, the wrong sort of questions that we can’t answer, especially because it’s his profession to do so.’

‘Right.’ I hold her steely gaze for a moment.

‘Cops are clever. They pick up on small comments you may not be aware you’re making. Body language that reveals you’re hiding something. They are trained to do this type of stuff, Mel.’

‘I was careful,’ I reply.

‘As was I.’

‘What does that mean?’

Liv shakes her head. ‘Nothing. Anyway, I have a few emails to send and stuff to do. I just need to grab my bag from the car.’ She avoids looking at me and walks out into the main area of the warehouse. The tension in the air drops slightly, but it doesn’t help the tightness across my chest.

Jennie sighs. ‘To be fair, Mel, she does have a point about Isaac being a cop.’

‘I know, and trust me, I wouldn’t have reached out to question him had I known he was a police officer.’

There’s a short pause.

‘Can I speak to you for a moment?’ asks Jennie.

‘Of course.’ I lean against the edge of the desk, and Jennie sits in front of me. ‘Are you all right?’

Whatever force field she’s been holding up since she arrived shatters the moment I offer a sympathetic ear.

‘Oh, God!’ I rush forwards and bend down, wrapping my arms tight around her quivering body. She sobs into her hands.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to erupt like that. Oh, I’ve just had my first period since Roan was born. It’s taken ages to come back, and stuff has happened, what with finding the body and stuff at home and …’

‘What sort of stuff at home? Jennie, if you ever need help with the kids or anything, you know you can call me, right? Anytime. Day or night.’

Jennie sniffs and uncovers her face. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that more than you know. This is actually quite a … delicate situation, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell Liv about it.’

I move around to the front of her again and take up the same position as before by the desk. ‘Of course.’

Jennie pulls out a tissue from her pocket and wipes her nose, leaving it a little red around her nostrils. ‘William has been hiding a lot of debt from me. He’s been in contact with a loan shark and owes them a lot of money. Me and the kids have been threatened. A man followed me to the shops yesterday and threatened me again. He said he knew about the cash, and I … I had to give him my share bar five grand, which I kept back for emergencies.’

My jaw drops. ‘Oh my God. This guy knew about the money?’

‘Yes.’

My mind goes straight to the threatening email. Could it be from William’s loan shark?

I shake my head. ‘I had no idea. William has been keeping this from you?’

‘I found out the same day we found the body and money. I mean, talk about a coincidence.’ She shuffles in her seat and straightens her back. ‘The thing is … the cash I gave this guy wasn’t enough. We have a week to pay the rest or … I don’t know what will happen.’

‘How much more do you need?’ My thoughts float to the possibility of there being one point two million involved.

‘Twenty thousand.’

‘It’s yours. Take what you need from my share. It’s in the safe.’ I don’t even have to think about it. Jennie needs help, and the fact she’s been threatened means this is serious. This isn’t just an irate banker; it’s a dangerous individual who will do anything to be paid. I’ve heard of these types of people before, mostly on the news, but knowing someone like that is after Jennie and the kids makes me want to leap to their defence.

They could be after all of us. Maybe Jennie is only the start.

Jennie cries again, sniffing loudly. ‘Oh, thank you, Mel. I didn’t want to ask … I wasn’t sure … this is all just so messed up. I was so scared. I had Roan with me.’

I walk over to Jennie and hug her again. ‘I’m so sorry. We’ll get through this together, yeah?’

Jennie nods, wiping her nose again. She stands up and walks over to the safe, bends down and enters the numbers. I watch Jennie remove some of the money but leave the rest. To be honest, she can take the lot for all I care. I feel sick every time I think about it. If the money can be used to help get my friend out of trouble and keep her family safe, then that’s all that matters. Perhaps it was fate and we found the cash for a reason. The thought of Jennie being hurt, or the kids, fills me with a spine-tingling dread that I can’t shake. But is there more out there somewhere?

Liv enters the office just as Jennie finishes putting the cash into her bag. She still looks pissed off but knows we have work to do. Liv pulls the laptop towards her and logs on, clicking and scrolling in silence.

‘Can you send me the details you have of the new buyers?’ I ask her.

‘Doing it now,’ is the blunt reply.

Jennie and I swap looks, knowing better than to push Liv when she’s in a mood. I’m about to walk out of the office to start sanding down a new piece of furniture when Liv stands up abruptly from the chair behind the desk.

‘What the fuck is this?’ She points to the laptop screen. I don’t need to see what’s on it to know she’s seen the email I’ve been keeping from them.

ELEVEN

MEL

No one says a word. Not for a long time, but Liv breaks the silence by saying, ‘Mel, what the fuck is this email? It arrived two days ago!’

‘What email?’ asks Jennie.

I watch helplessly as my deceit comes back to bite me. Jennie walks around and peers at the screen. She gasps, staggers backwards and then glares at me. She’s never been angry at me before. It’s always Liv who gets the brunt of any negative emotion from Jennie, but as they both glare at me from behind the desk, I realise my mistake. I’ve fucked up by not telling them about the email when it first arrived. We should have dealt with it together, but I was too concerned about how Liv would take it. Kind of how she’s taking it right now.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell us about this?’ demands Liv.

‘I … I’m sorry, okay. I really am, but I wasn’t even sure if it was true or not.’

‘Which part? The bit where the person threatens to kill us or the bit about there being one point two fucking million pounds at stake?’ Liv’s voice is enough to give me goosebumps across my arms.

I clear my throat. ‘I thought if I found out if the money was real or not first, I might be able to …’

‘Might be able to what? Hide that from us too?’

‘No! I swear. I wasn’t thinking about the money. I just wanted to … I don’t know what I was thinking.’ I’m backpedalling hard, but I know it won’t be enough to soothe Liv’s fury at me.

‘We didn’t search the rest of the unit, did we?’ asks Jennie. ‘It could still be there.’

Liv shakes her head, eyes wide. ‘It can’t have been there. One point two million? That’s not a small amount of cash and would take up considerable space. We’d have seen it.’

‘What if it was in the trunk with the dead guy?’ asks Jennie.

‘I searched the trunk, remember? There was nothing in there except for the body and some rotting clothes,’ replies Liv.

Words form in my head, but I can’t seem to get my vocal cords to say them.

‘Mel?’ asks Jennie. ‘Have you searched the unit by yourself?’

‘No. The thing is, I don’t understand how anyone can know about the storage unit,’ I say. ‘No one saw us. We would have seen them, and there weren’t any CCTV cameras, were there?’

Shit. Now that I think about it, I didn’t see any around the units, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. What if this email is from whoever owns Mason’s Storage and they watched us the whole time we were there?

‘I didn’t see any,’ says Jennie quietly. ‘And I didn’t see anyone following us.’

‘It has to be Isaac,’ says Liv abruptly.

‘What? Why would you say that?’ I ask, not liking her tone. She’s quick to jump to conclusions and lay blame on everyone else.

‘Come on! He’s a cop! He was probably scoping you out at the funeral and then, I don’t know, tailed you or something. Plus, he’s been hanging around after the funeral. Why? He must be here for a reason. He must have found out that his father was dead, tracked his last known whereabouts to that storage unit and then got in contact with you when your mum died, hoping you’d be able to tell him something useful or slip up and reveal details about his dad and how he was killed.’

‘Are you blaming me for this?’ I snap, now on the offensive. My blood pressure has increased, and my stress headache has sprung back to life with a vengeance.

‘No, not directly, but come on! It can’t be a coincidence that you received that email the day you met up with him for a chat.’ She air-quotes the word at the end.

‘I told you we didn’t speak about the storage unit. I just asked him if his dad wore a watch so I could identify the body.’

Liv inhales sharply, ready to respond, but Jennie interrupts by saying, ‘The email doesn’t say anything about the body, so maybe they don’t know it’s there.’

‘Oh, I think whoever this is, if they know about the money, they know about the body and vice versa,’ says Liv, folding her arms defiantly.

I bite my lip, refusing to rise to her outburst. How dare she blame me for this! How is this my fault? In fact, if anyone should be blamed here, it’s Liv.

‘Can I just point out that if we’d hadn’t removed the money in the first place, none of this would have happened?’ says Jennie, a harsher tone to her voice than I’m used to. I can’t help but agree with her statement.

Liv laughs. ‘Oh, okay, I see what’s going on here. You’re both ganging up on me now. Blaming me for this.’

Jennie sighs heavily. ‘If we went to the police like I suggested …’

‘Ah, but then you wouldn’t have got your money or had the chance to swindle Mel out of her share,’ says Liv coldly. The room plummets into silence as Jennie’s eyes dart to me and back to Liv. ‘Oh, yeah, I overheard you guys talking earlier and saw you take some cash out of the safe.’

‘How much did you hear?’ asks Jennie, her voice timid as a mouse. Her face is flushed, and I want to rush over and hug her again, protecting her from Liv’s verbal abuse, which she doesn’t deserve.

This is getting out of hand. We seem to have forgotten that we’re being threatened with our lives and are now focussed solely on blaming each other. It’s tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to stop it before the rip gets so bad that our friendships won’t survive it.

Money has the ability to turn friends into enemies. I wish we’d never found it.

‘I’ve heard enough,’ says Liv. She turns to me. ‘I bet if I’d asked you for some extra cash, you wouldn’t have offered it to me, would you?’

‘Jennie needs it …’

‘Oh, yeah, I’m sure she does. What about me? I’m the one who’s stuck with overbearing parents who refuse to let me live my own life. I’m the one who’s mentally abused every fucking day and told I’m not good enough to do anything with my life or be a scientist like I always wanted to be. Yet Jen here has a loving husband and cute kids and owns her own house, yet apparently needs more money because she doesn’t have enough already.’

Jennie gasps as if she’s been slapped across the face.

I step forwards. ‘Liv, I know you’re hurt and upset, but that is completely uncalled for. Clearly, you didn’t hear the whole story about why Jennie needs the money.’ I look to Jennie to ensure she’s happy for me to speak, but when I see her shake her head lightly, I back off.

Liv picks up on our silent communication.

‘You see! There you two go again. Hiding things from me.’ Liv makes her way to the doorway, then turns around to face us one last time. ‘The fact that neither of you trusts me enough to know tells me everything about our friendship group. Thanks a lot.’ She storms out, slamming the door so hard that the sound reverberates around the entire building, shaking the windows and doors.

Jennie looks at me. ‘Thank you for not telling her.’

‘Why didn’t you want me to? She may have understood more if she knew it was to keep you all safe from a loan shark who may be the one who sent that email.’

Jennie shakes her head. ‘Liv doesn’t care about anyone other than herself.’

‘That’s not true. She loves us, and we love her, but … she’s hot-headed, and this whole thing with her parents is getting to her.’

‘What are we going to do?’ Jennie nods towards the laptop, where the email that started this whole catastrophe sits. ‘About that?’

‘We need to lie low for a while.’

‘I can’t afford to lie low, Mel. I need to give the rest of this money to that guy so I can pay off William’s debt and keep my family safe.’

‘What if it’s the same person who sent us the email?’ I ask.

Jennie frowns. ‘It could be. I suppose anything’s possible at this stage. When he cornered me, he did already know about the money.’

I don’t have anything left to add. I hang my head and stare at the floor. Jennie comes and gives me a hug, and we stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms for several seconds. I can feel the tension in the air from when Liv stormed out. The cracks are there and slowly getting bigger, inching apart, but Liv’s always been a loose wire, always the one to fly off the handle without thinking about what she’s saying or taking on board the consequences of her actions. It’s always been that way, ever since we were kids. Now, as an adult, Liv’s reckless decision about taking the money instead of reporting it, the decision she fought for and convinced me to go along with, has the ability and power to change our entire lives.

And not for the better.

It’s a monumental effort to make it through the day at work. I can’t focus. I spend ages staring at the email, wishing I could see through the internet to who sent it. I hate the anonymity of the online world. Anyone, literally anyone, could have sent this. But the fact they name us and mention the money – albeit a lot more than we originally thought – is enough to tell me it’s someone close, both physically and personally. It’s someone who knows one of us or all of us. Who that is remains to be determined, but it’s enough for me to go over and over every possibility in my head.

Eventually, I decide to delete it and empty it from the recycling bin. I should have done that in the first place; then Liv would never have stumbled across it. How she found it is beyond me, but she must have been searching through the folders for something and come across it by mistake.

I drag my sorry butt up the stairs of the building to my flat and take out my keys.

I needn’t have bothered.

The door is cracked open an inch; the lock busted.

My head whips around in every direction as I scan the area for danger and to check if any other doors have been broken. I reach with my right hand and gently push the door open. It swings inwards with a creak.

‘Hello?’ I call out, instantly feeling stupid for saying it because an intruder is not going to respond. It’s a reflex, a natural instinct.

Upon first inspection, nothing looks out of the ordinary, but as I look closer, small observations jump out at me.

My side drawer isn’t closed all the way.

The sofa cushions are facing the wrong way.

When I enter the kitchenette, a cupboard door has been left open, and in my bedroom, the duvet is rumpled and the en suite light has been left on.

Nothing is broken. Nothing seems to have been stolen.

Whoever broke in is either the neatest criminal around, or they wanted to unsettle me by making it known that they were here.

Message received.

Were they searching for the money? Is it the same person who sent the threatening email? I send Jennie a text.

Hey Jennie. I’ve just got home to find my place has been broken into. Nothing seems to be missing, but I’m wondering if someone is looking for the money. Are you okay? Has anyone broken into your car or house? xx

Hey, Mel. Oh my God. Are you okay? I’m so glad nothing was stolen, but that’s worrying. I’m fine. No one has broken into the house, but I’ve run into a bit of a snag because I have no way of contacting the guy who threatened me without telling William that I’ve already paid him off. I’m not sure what to do xx

I pause for a moment before calling her. Some things are easier to talk about out loud. She picks up, and as soon as the call connects, I hear kids in the background.

‘Maybe it’s worth telling William about the money,’ I say without saying hello first.

Jennie lowers her voice as she responds, ‘Seriously? No way. He’ll ask too many questions, and besides, Liv’s already pissed off at you for including Isaac. She and Will are old friends too. It would get back to her that he knows, and I’m not sure I could keep the fact that a body was found along with the money a secret from him.’

‘Good point. Okay, well, sit tight. I’m sure the guy will find you.’

‘Not comforting! Anyway, are you sure the intruders didn’t take anything?’

‘Yes, but the front door lock is broken. I get the feeling that whoever did it wants to make me nervous. Have you heard from Liv at all?’

‘No, but I’ve sent her a message. She’s read it but not responded.’

‘I guess we just need to give her some time.’

‘What do you think they were looking for in your flat?’ asks Jennie.

I hear her words, but something has come to me at the speed of a lightning bolt. ‘Oh my God, my mum’s house … Jennie, I have to go. I’ll text you in a bit. I just need to check something.’

I hang up without waiting for her to respond and run back down the corridor and out to my car. On the way, I call my landlady and tell her about the break-in. She says she’ll get someone out to fix the lock first thing tomorrow morning and asks if I’d like to report it to the police. I decline because nothing was taken, but she questions me about my choice, so I placate her and tell her that I will report it tomorrow.

As soon as I pull up on the driveway of my mum’s house, my heart drops again. The door is also ajar. The inside looks the same, messy, disorganised and chaotic. Again, they haven’t taken anything from what I can see, not even from dad’s office, but someone is definitely looking for something.

The question is: what are they looking for?

TWELVE

LIV

My pulse pounds in my ears as I storm out of the warehouse and back towards my car. My body radiates with adrenaline and fury after the explosive argument with Mel and Jen. Not only did the email freak me out, but combined with Mel’s revelation that Isaac is a cop, it’s enough to send me into a downward spiral.

Why didn’t he tell me last night?

He had more than one opportunity to tell me, but he never even hinted at it. What was it he said after we’d shagged the first time? He was taking time off from his work to focus on his mental health. To be honest, the topic of his career never came up again after that. I admit I wasn’t interested in asking him lots of questions. I tend not to interrogate my one-night stands. We didn’t exactly talk at length between shags, and after the third time, I fell asleep anyway. Did he intentionally avoid telling me though? Surely being a police officer is something you tell people, right? Why did he reveal it to Mel so willingly, but not me? Because she’s family?

Not only is the Isaac thing bothering me, but Mel’s giving some of her share of the money to Jen without talking to me about it first has riled me up. I saw red as I overheard them talking in hushed voices in the office, like they were sharing a secret code. I didn’t hear the reason why she needed the money, but I didn’t need to. Mel handed it over without a second thought, and I still stand by what I said, that she wouldn’t have given me the money if I’d asked.

The fact they are talking behind my back is unsettling me in more ways than one. What else are they talking about? Are they planning on going back to the storage unit to search for the rest of the money without me? Would they hold the phrase ‘finders keepers’ over me and refuse me a cut?

One point two million is a fuck ton of money. Not only could I leave my parents’ house for good, but I could start a whole new life in another country if I wanted to. The world would be open to me in so many different ways. I could go to university to study to become a scientist, although I’d have to retake some exams first. The point is that I’d be free to do all those things and more, except that the money would all be in cash. It would pose a huge problem. But I can’t think about the complications it would bring if I walked away with that amount.

The bottom line is that I need to get back to the storage unit before they do. I don’t trust either one of them, not after finding out they were talking behind my back and swapping the money between them like sweets. I thought we were in this together, that we were best friends and shared everything, but that’s all bullshit.

There’s one problem.

Mel has the key to the storage unit, and there’s no way in hell she’s going to give it to me willingly. Not after what just happened. I may have burned that bridge, so I’ll have to think of a way around it without arousing suspicion.

I drive out of the warehouse car park and stop down the road, not wanting to be near work in case one of them comes outside and sees me sitting in my car with no place to go. Once I pull up, I lean against the headrest and take a moment to catch my breath.

Mel, Jen and I have always had our differences, but I’ve felt they’ve worked with our group dynamic until now. Ever since we found the body and the money, we’ve fought more, and everything feels strained, like each of us is hiding something from the other.

I take out my phone and text William, full of seething rage. I’m hurting, and the only way to make myself feel better is to take it out on someone else. It’s not fair that he will get to benefit from the money. He didn’t even find it.

I’m sure that you and Jen will have a great time spending that money. Hope you’re happy now!

I leave off any Xs, letting him know I’m not playing around and I’m in no mood to be flirty. I hold the phone in my hand, watching the three tiny dots dance as I wait for his almost immediate response.

What the hell are you talking about, Liv? What money?

My eyebrows rise slightly. Could it be that precious, goody-goody Jen hasn’t told her husband about the money after all? That would mean she’s keeping the money for herself! What does she think she’s going to do with that amount? Get a boob job?

A small smirk creeps across my face as I realise I’ve found out something that Jen wouldn’t want me to know. I could use this to my advantage, but right now, I can’t think how. I’ll store it for future leverage. I’m sure it will come in handy one day soon.

William’s name pops up on my screen, but I decline his call.

Instead, I navigate to Isaac’s number, which he gave me the other night, and call him, but it rings out. I don’t leave a message. Realising I have nothing to do unless I’m at work, I decide to go home and take a swim in the large pool my parents had installed five years ago.

My head is too clouded with confusion and anger right now to think clearly, and I secretly hope Isaac doesn’t call me back. Talking with him will only complicate things more. If Mel finds out we slept together, then so be it, but if she does, then it’s highly unlikely our friendship will ever be the same again. It’s not like Isaac is her brother, and they barely know each other anymore, so what reason would she have for disapproving of us sleeping together? But I know she will. Whatever the case, I’m not even sure if we have a friendship left after the blow-out just now, so perhaps the whole thing is moot.

As I drive home, a black Toyota follows me closely, too closely. I keep flicking my eyes up to the rear-view mirror, but I don’t recognise the guy driving. He’s wearing large, dark sunglasses despite the weather not being that sunny, and his black clothes blend into the black car.

I slam on the brakes, hoping to send him a message to back the hell off. I hate tailgaters. There’s no need for it. Just a bloke attempting to impress or intimidate me with the black monstrosity of a car. I keep my eye on him, but he continues to follow me towards the turn-off for my road.

My thoughts focus on the email. The threat that came with it. I wonder if this man could be connected.

I stop the car, not willing to drive up the long driveway to my house with him following me. My parents would ask questions. I get out, leaving the door open, and stand at the back of my car, staring at the guy, who has pulled to the side of the road instead of driving by me.

I see him do a salute, still sitting behind the wheel; then he starts the car again and drives past me. I grab my phone and quickly try to snap a picture of the numberplate, but I’m not fast enough. I manage to catch an L and a 20, but the rest is blurred.

Who the fuck is that?

My immediate reaction is to call Mel or Jen, but I stop myself just in time, remembering I’ve already burned those bridges. I let out a shout of frustration before getting back into my car and driving the rest of the way home, storming through the house and stomping up the stairs to my room to change for swimming.

I emerge a few minutes later in my swimming costume, carrying a towel. I plan on doing sixty lengths. I could have been a decent swimmer, perhaps even made it to the Olympics, but my parents decided they didn’t want me to reach for the stars by becoming a famous swimmer or a scientist. They didn’t want me to do anything, so when they were told that I had the potential to swim for the county, they started making excuses as to why they couldn’t take me to the swimming meets and races. Eventually, my coach from school stopped asking me, and then I was dropped from the team. They similarly sabotaged any attempt I made to excel in my science classes.

My dad stands at the top of the stairs, waiting for me, a firm scowl etched on his haggard face. ‘Where are you going?’

I don’t stop walking as I reply, ‘To jump off a fucking cliff.’

‘Don’t you swear at me, young lady.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Dad. I’m thirty-five years old!’ He is seriously choosing the wrong time to pick a fight.

‘Don’t walk away from me. I need to talk to you about something.’

I stop at the top of the landing to turn and face him. ‘What?’

He’s holding something behind his back that I can’t quite make out, but as he holds it up, my stomach flips over. ‘W-Where did you find that?’

‘I think the better question, Olive, is where did you find this?’

Nothing but a stutter makes it past my lips. He’s been in my room, searching through my things, and found the bag of cash I’d stuffed under my bed. Dad has entered my room before without being invited, but not for a long time. Up until now, I’ve given him no reason not to trust me, but clearly my behaviour these past few days has warranted him to violate my privacy.

‘Dad … that’s none of your business.’ I hold out my hand, but I know, deep down inside, that there’s a better chance of him reaching towards me for a hug than him handing over the bag of cash.

‘If it’s under my roof, then it is my business, Olive. This …’ He shakes the bag clenched in his fist. ‘Whatever this is, is not yours to have. You don’t deserve it. You didn’t work for it. Do you understand?’

He’s not concerned with where I got it. He doesn’t care. He’s more worried about how I’ve hidden it from him and intend to use it. My whole future life melts before my eyes as he storms downstairs, shoving past me. I follow him, still wearing my costume and now shivering as he walks into the living room and straight towards the …

‘No!’ I screech as he stops in front of the roaring fire. Dad likes to have fires lit at all times of the year, but I reckon he lit it on purpose before I arrived home, knowing exactly what he was going to do with the cash when he confronted me.

Before I can get there, he chucks the bag into the flames.

Stupidly, without thinking, I reach into the fire, hoping to catch the handle, but the intense heat makes me recoil in an instant. Tears stream down my cheeks as I kneel and watch the cash go up in flames with my dad standing over me.

‘Let this be a lesson to you, Olive. I’ve told you that you will never want for anything as long as you remain under my roof.’

I glare up at him through waterlogged eyes. ‘What about my freedom! The only thing I want is to be free from you!’

‘There’s the door.’ He points stiff-armed to the exit.

He’s gone too far this time.

I stand up on shaky legs and storm out of the room, up the stairs and into my bedroom. I get dressed and shove various items of clothing into a suitcase. I scoop make-up and other things off my desk and pile them into my handbag, including the Rolex watch, which I slide into my jacket pocket. Dad is waiting for me by the front door, dangling my car keys on his fingers so I can see them. ‘I bought you that car, so don’t expect these back.’ He clenches his fists around the keys. ‘But keep your phone. You’ll need it for when you call me up and beg me to take you back.’

I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Snot and tears mix together as I march down the driveway, heading for the main road. The house is situated a fair way out of the main town, but I don’t care. I never want anything to do with them ever again. I’m done. I don’t care if I end up being homeless and living on the street. I will never take another penny from them.

I call William, sniffing loudly just as he answers. ‘Liv–’

‘Will, I need your help. Please. My dad kicked me out, and I’ve nowhere to–’

‘Liv, I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk now. You’ve called at a bad time.’

‘William! I need your help!’

‘Liv, please, just … I’ll call you later, okay? Goodbye.’ He hangs up, and it’s all I can do to not hurl my phone onto the concrete and watch it smash.

I call Mel, who picks up after two rings. ‘Hi, Liv.’

‘Mel …’ And then I break apart into a thousand pieces. I’m barely able to form my tongue around the words I need to say, but Mel gets the general idea.

‘Liv, it’s okay. We love you, and we’re in this together, okay?’

I sniff loudly. ‘I … I’ve been kicked out. I’ve nowhere to go.’

‘Come to mine. We’ll figure something out.’

‘I … He took my car.’

‘I’ll come and get you. Where are you?’

‘Walking along the main road into town from mine.’

‘Find somewhere safe to stop, and I’ll be ten minutes.’ She rings off.

I do as she suggested and find a small lay-by where I can stop without the risk of a car hitting me from behind. I park my suitcase and sit on it. I don’t deserve Mel’s forgiveness, nor has it changed my mind about anything that happened earlier with Mel and Jen, but she’s right. We are in this together whether I like it or not.

I need to convince Mel to go back to the storage unit to look for the rest of the money because now I have nothing left of my share. It’s not fair that Jen gets to keep it all. She’s lying to William, keeping it all to herself.

My hands sink into the pockets of my jacket, and something cold touches my fingers on my left hand. I pull out the object.

It’s the Rolex watch.

I took it from the body when I was supposed to be looking for a form of ID. I thought it might be worth something. My next plan is to get it valued and try to flog it for some spare cash so I can figure out my next move while sleeping on Mel’s sofa.

A few minutes later, Mel pulls into the lay-by and gives me a wave. I smile at her, knowing my face is still going to be red and blotchy from crying.

I hate having to hide things from Mel, but I can’t trust anyone apart from myself. Everyone always seems to be against me.

THIRTEEN

MEL

Liv dumps her suitcase in the boot with a thud, then gets into the car and closes the door. She doesn’t speak, but clutches her handbag on her lap, holding onto it as if she’s afraid someone will snatch it away. I don’t know the full details of what has happened, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out that she’s hit rock bottom and is devastated. Her parents have kicked her out before, but this feels different. She looks deflated, like she’s lost everything.

‘You can stay with me for as long as you need,’ I say as I check my blind spot.

‘Thank you,’ she replies in a small voice, something I’m not used to hearing from her.

‘Was it your dad?’

She nods and stares out the window, looking away from me. ‘He burned it all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He found the money in my room and threw it in the fire.’ She clutches her right hand, which I now notice is red and looks sore.

‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Liv shakes her head. ‘It’s my fault. I should have known he’d search my room. I should have taken it with me this morning to work. Now it’s all gone, and I have nothing left. Nothing.’ Her voice is full of emotion that’s so close to erupting, I can practically see it emanating off her in waves.

‘You have us,’ I say as I reach out my hand from the steering wheel and place it on her knee. ‘Money isn’t everything, you know.’

‘Thank you,’ says Liv. ‘I’m so sorry about earlier. I just … I freaked out.’

‘I think we all did,’ I reply, turning my attention back to the road. ‘I’ve no idea where we go from here, but you have to realise that I didn’t give Jennie the money for no reason. I can’t say why because it’s not my story to tell, but she’s in danger.’

Liv whips her head around to look at me. ‘She’s in danger? What do you mean? Why won’t either of you tell me?’

‘It’s not that we want to keep it from you, Liv, but I don’t feel it’s my place. If Jennie wants to tell you, then she will, but when you go around accusing her like you did, then it’s understandable when she won’t tell you anything.’

Liv returns to looking out the window at the passing countryside. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to apologise.’

‘I tell you what, how about you and I grab a takeaway tonight. My treat. And we can talk over some things.’

Liv smiles, a little light returning to her puffy eyes. ‘That sounds great.’

Later that evening, Liv and I tuck into an Indian takeaway and stick a film on in the background. Liv is quieter than usual, eating her meal while her eyes are on the screen. I’m not sure how to start the conversation. A part of me wants to know more about what happened with her dad, but the fact he found the money and burned it is enough to tell me she won’t be welcome back there unless she crawls back to him, begging for forgiveness.

Liv’s dad was always nice to me, and as far as I’m aware, he’s a decent man to everyone else, but there’s something lurking beneath his exterior. To Liv, he’s a cruel, vindictive, power-hungry man who seems to relish having control over his daughter. I reckon that if he had the power to turn back time, he’d make Liv a child again. He’s never seen her for who she truly is, and I feel sorry for her that she’s never had the chance to experience unconditional love from either of her parents.

We’re sharing a bottle of wine, so Liv tops up my glass. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you that the buyer who wanted to purchase the cabinet has pulled out.’

I let out a frustrated sigh. It seems surreal that we’re talking about the day-to-day aspects of our job while having this huge life-changing event hovering over us. ‘Oh, God, did they say why?’

‘Found something cheaper.’

‘I thought it was a good price, considering the amount we paid for it and the hours of labour.’

‘It is a good price, but these bigger companies can do it for cheaper and on a larger scale. I think we have to face facts, Mel, that our business is going south fast.’

I’ve known it for some time, but I admit I’ve stuck my head in the sand, unwillingly to accept defeat and hoping everything will blow over. The business is all I have, and the idea of giving up on it feels like I’ve failed. It was my idea at the start, and I do the majority of the work involved. Without it, I would have nothing.

‘I’m not ready to give up on it. I was hoping the cash would give it an injection of life.’

‘Yet we can’t pay it into the bank without questions being asked about where the money came from,’ says Liv, turning the volume down on the television. ‘And now Jen has most of the money.’

‘I wish we’d never found the money,’ I say sadly.

Liv doesn’t say anything back.

‘What about the email we received? Do you really think there’s over a million quid in the storage unit and we just didn’t find it?’ I ask.

Liv shrugs. ‘Only one way to find out.’

‘I feel like going back to the scene of the crime is just asking for trouble. If someone followed us the first time, then they may follow us again. We could be walking into a trap.’

‘That’s true.’ Liv picks up the bottle of wine. ‘Looks like we killed the bottle.’

‘There’s another in the rack in the kitchen. I’ll get it,’ I say, picking up my empty takeaway container. I hold my hand out for Liv to give me hers, which she does, and I walk into the kitchen. I drop the dirty containers into the sink to wash later, ready to be recycled, then bend and grab the bottle from the rack beside the fridge.

As I walk back into the living room, I see Liv leaning over the side of the sofa, reaching down to where I keep my handbag. She straightens up when she sees me.

‘Dropped my fork,’ she says, holding it up to show me.

I sit on the sofa and pass the bottle to Liv, who unscrews it. We spend a bit of time watching the film, but a niggle in the pit of my stomach makes me unable to sit still. Was Liv searching through my handbag? It’s a thought I can’t shake.

My phone is balancing on the arm of the sofa. It lights up as a call comes in, but it’s an unknown number, so I answer it with the usual trepidation. ‘Hello?’

‘Oh, hello. Is that Melanie Brookes?’

‘Yes. Speaking.’

‘Hi, this is Gwen Mason. I’m calling about your email you sent to Mason’s Storage.’

My heart rates spikes, and I flap my hand in the air, alerting Liv, and gesture to her to turn the television volume down as I switch the call to speaker so we can both hear. We lean in close.

‘Yes, hi!’ I say, attempting to keep my voice on an even keel. I have to physically restrain myself from spurting out all my questions at once, but Gwen has started talking, so I wait until she’s finished.

‘I’m sorry it’s taken a few days to respond to you. I was going to send an email back, but since you left your phone number, I thought it best to explain over the phone.’

‘Oh, that’s okay,’ I say, flicking my eyes up to Liv, who doesn’t seem interested in speaking, but is leaning forwards expectantly, hoping, like me, to find out something that will aid us in our research. ‘I wasn’t sure if Mason’s Storage was still a working business. I popped down there a couple of days ago.’

Liv glares at me and does the universal zip-lip gesture.

Shit. She’s right. I don’t want to say too much.

‘Yeah, so basically Mason’s Storage was owned and run by my dad, Henry Mason. About ten years ago, he got sick, and slowly, over the years, the company fell into disrepair. We stopped advertising, and one by one, our clients left us. The majority of the units are empty, I believe, or at least forgotten about. Dad died a year ago, and now it’s my responsibility to sort out the company and close it down for good, but it’s one of those things that has fallen by the wayside. There’s so much to do.’

‘I’m so sorry about your dad. I understand how you feel,’ I reply. ‘My mum’s recently died, and I have her whole house to sort out. Actually, that’s how I found the keys to the unit. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me whom it belonged to, or, uh … if you know when it was last opened.’

Liv nods, agreeing with my line of questioning.

I take a breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

‘Ooh, gosh, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell you when it was last opened. The CCTV cameras stopped working years ago. The guy who owned it could have gained access whenever he wanted if he still had the keys.’

‘I see. You say it was a man who owned it? What did he look like?’

‘Well, it’s funny you mention it. Unit seventeen was owned by the tattoo guy.’

‘Did tattoo guy have a name?’

‘I can’t remember it. I’m sorry. I just remember the tattoos.’

‘Does Malcolm Brookes ring a bell?’

‘Hmm, possibly, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure. Is that your dad?’

‘Yes. He had tattoos on his arms and shoulders, including an eagle on his left forearm.’

‘Yes! That’s him! The eagle was very eye-catching.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Fifteen years ago, during the summer holidays of 2011. I was ten at the time, and I remember because that was the summer I spent most of my time at the storage facility with my dad. It was just me and him, and I had nowhere else to go. Anyway, your dad was pretty cool. He showed me all his tattoos up and down his arms and across his shoulders. It was what got me into them. I’m a tattoo artist now and am pretty much covered head to toe.’

‘Was he ever there with anyone else?’

‘Yes. Another guy sometimes, but I don’t remember him. Were you able to gain access to the unit and remove any items you wanted to keep?’

I look at Liv, who looks as if she’s holding her breath. ‘Uh, yes, but there wasn’t much in it. I’ll have it cleared out soon.’

‘Ah, no worries. Like I said, as far as I’m concerned, the company is closed down, but if there is anything you want to save from the unit, then you’re welcome to grab it anytime you like.’

I clear my throat. ‘Thank you. There is a reception area there with a lot of paperwork, and you said that you did have CCTV at some point. Would you still have the recordings?’

‘Oh gosh, no. They were only kept for, like, a week, I think, then got erased. There’s no way there’s anything left.’

Liv blows out a breath, puffing out her cheeks, and I nod, both relieved that there’s no evidence of us entering the unit, but also disappointed that there isn’t evidence of Uncle Kevin going in.

‘Is there anything else you need to know?’ asks Gwen.

‘Uh, no, I guess that’s it, really. I just needed to know whom the unit belonged to. I wasn’t sure if it was my mum or my dad. Thanks so much for getting back to me.’

‘You’re welcome. Take care.’

‘And you. Bye.’

I hang up, and Liv and I sit in a moment of silence.

‘It doesn’t really help us,’ says Liv.

‘No, I guess it doesn’t, but it gives us a possible timeline of events. It sounds like Dad spent a lot of time there in the summer of 2011, and if he was there with another man, then it’s possible that it could have been Uncle Kevin.’

Liv nods. ‘It’s not looking good for your dad, is it?’

FOURTEEN

JENNIE

I spend the whole day cleaning the house, or at least attempting to, because it’s the only thing that distracts me from the contents of the email and the horrible argument with Liv that has ripped a hole in my heart. Mel has messaged me and said Liv is staying with her for the foreseeable future after being kicked out of her family home. I don’t ask what happened, but I don’t really need to know the details. It’s not hard to understand.

Mel also tells me that Liv’s share of the cash is gone. Her father destroyed it. It’s a blow I didn’t see coming. Luckily, I have enough cash to pay off William’s debt, but I doubt Liv will be in a good place right now. I know she was counting on using the money towards getting out from under her parents’ control, and Mel wanted to use her share to help save the business. Now, I’m not sure if either of those things will happen. Liv will be devastated, but will she be devastated and desperate enough to try to ask Mel for the rest of her money? I feel guilty enough about it that I’ve got the lion’s share despite me being the one who didn’t want any part of it in the first place, but I’ve no other option. Our lives are at stake.

William is out now, but I’ve no idea where or why because he’s not at work. He hasn’t messaged me either to let me know what time to expect him. Perhaps he is trying to find a new job, or maybe he doesn’t want to spend time with me and the kids. He’s always been a good father, happy to knuckle down and help out with changing nappies and night-time feedings at the start, especially with Beatrice. But since Roan came along, he’s taken a back seat and has barely spent any real time with him or us, saying he’s been tired or needs to work.

I start dinner – a curry from a jar for us and fish fingers and chips for the kids – and am pleasantly surprised to see him walk through the door just as I’m serving it up.

‘Hi,’ he says just as I put Roan’s sticky plate on his highchair tray.

‘Hi,’ I reply solemnly.

‘Can we talk?’

‘Right now, in front of the kids?’

‘They won’t care or understand, Jen.’

I know that, but it’s not why I’m reluctant to speak to him with them around. Roan especially tends to feed off my emotions, and the last thing I want is for him to break down in tears before he’s had his dinner and a bath. It will take ages to settle him, but William never thinks about these things because he’s not the one who has to deal with the fallout. Beatrice may only speak in short sentences and prefers to sing rather than talk, but she understands a hell of a lot more than she lets on.

‘Okay, fine,’ I reply, sitting down between the kids. I won’t get a chance to eat my own food until later. Sometimes it’s not worth even trying to eat a hot meal around them.

‘What’s going on?’ he asks.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I know about the money.’

‘What money?’

William sits down at the table, both hands laid flat on the surface either side of him. ‘The money, Jen. There’s no point in denying it.’

My mind frantically searches for an answer as to how he’s found out, but there’s no way he could have figured it out on his own. Not unless that man contacted William after I gave him the cash in the nappy bag.

‘Did that man contact you?’

‘Huh?’

I hand Roan a warm fish finger. He snatches it from me and chomps down. ‘That man who threatened us. Did he tell you?’

‘So, it’s true!’

‘What? Did you just bluff that whole thing?’ I try to keep my voice level so as not to startle the kids – probably another reason why he didn’t mind speaking in front of them. He knows I don’t like raising my voice at him in front of them.

‘How else am I supposed to get you to tell me the truth?’

‘I can’t believe you just did that.’

‘And I can’t believe you’ve had a load of money and have been hiding it from me. Where’d it come from? How much have you got? What’s going on?’

‘First of all, before I tell you anything, I want to know who told you. If it wasn’t the man who threatened us, then who was it?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, it bloody well does.’ My voice is stern, and Roan stops chewing the fish finger, looks at me and whines. I placate him by handing him a chip dipped in ketchup.

William watches me closely, glaring from across the table. ‘Liv told me.’

‘Liv? Why would … I don’t understand.’

‘And I told you that it doesn’t matter.’

I sigh heavily, close my eyes, and take a breath before I explode. I can’t lose my temper in front of the kids.

‘Mummy, why is your face red?’ asks Beatrice.

‘I’m hot,’ I reply quickly, reaching for my glass of water. ‘Please, can we talk about this later?’ I ask William.

He stands up and shoves himself away from the table. ‘Fine, I’m going to take a shower.’

He leaves me to feed the kids, while I start stewing and questioning why the hell Liv would have told him about the money. How much did she tell him? Surely, not everything. She was the one who blew up at Mel when she contacted Isaac, yet Mel hadn’t even told him about the money. Yet William is saying that Liv told him about it? Was it to punish me for taking Mel’s share of the money?

Something doesn’t add up. I know Liv and William are friends and used to be more than that many years ago when they were kids, but it was nothing serious. They said they never slept together, and both of them have moved on since then. I’ve always trusted them. Yes, Liv is a free spirit and sleeps around without a care in the world, but she’d never betray me with my husband … would she?

By the time I’ve got the kids fed, cleaned and in bed, it’s gone eight. William is watching television with his feet up, barely blinking as I join him on the sofa, a muslin over my shoulder, clutching the baby monitor. I slump down next to him, sinking into the cushions and wishing they would swallow me whole and I could disappear someplace quiet for a while.

‘How much money is it, Jen?’ asks William without taking his eyes off the screen.

‘I don’t know why you’re the one who seems to be pissy at me,’ I snap, looking straight at him, avoiding answering him directly. ‘You’re the one who got us into this mess, and now you suddenly have an issue when I’ve tried to get us out of it.’

William picks up the remote and pauses whatever it is he’s watching. The room is silent apart from the white noise coming through the baby monitor.

‘I appreciate you trying to help, but it won’t make a difference,’ he says slowly, avoiding eye contact.

I ignore his remark. ‘While I was out buying food for our family today, my card was declined, so I went into town and parked. I was followed by a man driving a black Toyota.’

At this point, William raises his eyes to look at me. His eyes widen, and he sits straighter, hanging on my every word. ‘Did he speak to you?’

‘Yes, and he threatened us again. I had no choice but to give him the money I had, and I told him I could get the rest by the end of the week. I have it now, but I have no way of contacting him. I assume you have his number or something?’

‘But how much was it, and where did you get this money?’ asks William, taking his time to enunciate each word.

I tilt my chin to the ceiling and tell myself not to scream. Why is he not listening to me? Does he not care that his wife and children were threatened today? Anything could have happened to us. We could have been kidnapped or held for ransom and he’d have been none the wiser, just wondering why there was no dinner on the table.

‘Jen, this is serious. Did you steal it or something, or win it, or inherit it? Just tell me!’

‘Why is it important?’

‘Because!’ He throws his hands up, making a big gesture, but no further words come out to make his point. ‘Look,’ he says with a huff, ‘like I said, I appreciate you trying to help, but for all I know, you’ve made things worse. Besides, it won’t be enough.’

I narrow my eyes. ‘Why won’t it be enough?’

‘Because …’ He closes his eyes as he turns his face away from me. ‘Because I owe a lot more than the fifty grand I told you about.’

My breath catches in my throat. ‘How much more?’

William doesn’t answer.

‘How. Much. More?’

William gulps. ‘I … I signed over the deed of our house.’

‘You did what?’ I leap to my feet, unable to be near him for a moment longer. Our home. Our family home. That we scrimped and saved for and have mortgaged for the next thirty years, and he’s just signed over the deed? How is that even possible? Is it legal? I signed the mortgage documents too, so how did he manage to do it? Has he forged my signature?

‘I had to,’ says William, getting up and coming after me, but I’m pacing the length of the living room, avoiding the toys on the floor like a miniature assault course.

‘You had to! You had to sign over the home your children live in to some fucking loan shark because you owe them money? Really! I have known you to do some stupid stuff, William, but this … this is beyond anything … I can’t even …’ I try to take a breath, but all the oxygen in the room appears to have evaporated, along with my patient and forgiving nature.

Because I can never forgive him for this, for taking away his children’s home and safety.

‘You have no idea how much I’ve tried to sort this out without you knowing,’ says William, his voice breaking and croaking.

‘I don’t care,’ I snap. ‘I don’t care how much you’ve tried. You should have told me. You should have done anything else other than sign over our home. Is it even legal? Did you forge my signature? What about our mortgage?’

‘That’s just it. The loan shark said they’d pay off our mortgage if I signed over the house.’

I stare at him with an open mouth. ‘Are you serious right now? You’re telling me that this loan shark, whoever they are, could turf us out on the street whenever they want? Do we have a contract or anything? We have rights. They wouldn’t …’

William bites his bottom lip hard and shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’

My mind races; then I remember the one point two million pounds the email spoke about. This house isn’t worth anywhere near that amount. If I found the money, then I could pay off everything, whatever William owed, and save our family from ruin. Not that William deserves my help in bailing him out of this hole he’s dug himself into, but I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for our children.

‘Who are they? Tell me who this loan shark is,’ I say. ‘I will contact them myself and find out exactly how much it will take to end this.’

‘Why? How much more money do you have?’

‘Who are they?’ I ask again.

William sighs, probably realising that he isn’t about to win any arguments anytime soon, not after what he’s done. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. ‘I don’t know their name. I found the loan shark through a friend of a friend, and it’s better you don’t know any more than that.’

‘Are you kidding me?’

‘I’m just trying to protect you.’

‘I don’t need protecting, William,’ I say through clenched teeth, still fighting to keep my voice down. I want to strangle him. ‘I swear to God, it’s you who will need protection if you don’t tell me what I need to know right now.’

William shrugs. ‘I don’t have a name. I swear.’

I shake my head and turn my back on him. There’s no point in repeating myself. I’m only going to work myself into a state I can’t come down from. Already, my stomach is queasy, and my blood pressure feels higher than it’s ever been.

I need to find the rest of that money, but there’s still no proof it even exists.

But … the email said we needed to return it. All of it. Or the three of us would pay with our lives. It’s time I made a decision about who is more important. My friends or my family.

Unfortunately, there is no contest.

FIFTEEN

MEL

I’ve had too much wine, but that doesn’t stop me from pouring another glass for me and Liv. It’s going down far too easily, but I’m enjoying the buzz and the numbness of my brain after the shocking revelation that my dad could be responsible for putting Uncle Kevin in that trunk inside a locked storage unit. It’s enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

It can’t be possible, can it?

Is my dad a murderer?

What could Uncle Kevin have possibly done to warrant being murdered?

They were twins, the closest of brothers, despite looking nothing alike. There has to be another, more reasonable explanation. Unless I find solid proof, I’m not ready to accuse my father of murder when he’s not here to defend himself.

There’s no one alive who can help me though. Mum may have known something, but she had fifteen years to tell me. Her mind was on its way out by the end, so even if there was something there, it’s highly unlikely she’d have been able to make sense of it.

I wish there were someone I could speak to who may know more about what happened back then, when I didn’t live at home.

Liv lies back on the sofa, her eyes fluttering closed. Clearly, the wine is having the same mind-numbing effect on her. ‘Don’t you have, like … a long-lost uncle or aunt or … another cousin?’ She’s slurring her words, her tone lazy.

I stare into my glass of wine and swirl it, accidentally slopping a splash over the edge. ‘Uncle Kevin was dad’s brother, but he didn’t have any other siblings, and Mum … Mum has a sister.’ I sit up straight like a bolt of electricity has zapped me up the backside. ‘Aunt Eloise!’

I scramble for my phone. Liv’s eyes are closed, so I leave her be as I scroll for Aunt Eloise’s number. It’s gone ten in the evening now, it’s too late to call, so I send her a text instead, asking if I can come and visit her as soon as possible, claiming it’s because it would be nice to see the only living family I have left, and not because I want to quiz her for answers. I know I saw her at the funeral, but we didn’t have a proper chance to talk and catch up.

She’s always told me her door is open to me to visit anytime I like, so I’m taking her up on her offer, claiming to want to check up on her after the funeral. I feel bad that I haven’t checked up on her anyway. She lost her sister, and even though they weren’t close, she’s still family.

I cover Liv with a blanket and tuck her feet up on the sofa, ensuring her half-drunk glass of wine is out of harm’s way before I climb the stairs and go to bed.

I wake to a response from Aunt Eliose.

Hello, Melanie. It’s lovely to hear from you. I’d be delighted to have you come and visit me! Please come any time. I’m not going anywhere. Love Aunt Eloise xx

There’s no time to lose, so as soon as Liv is awake, I tell her my plan.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asks, standing in the doorway of the kitchen while I fix us some coffee and breakfast.

‘No, I think it’s best if I go alone. Besides, you and Jennie need to man the business while I’m gone, but I shouldn’t be away more than a day. I’m going to drive up today and come back either later tonight or tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to stay here.’

‘Are you sure? About me staying here?’

‘Of course.’

‘Where does she live?’

‘She’s only in the Cotswolds. Not far at all. Couple of hours.’

Liv takes the coffee mug from me as I pass it over. She takes a sip. ‘Do you want me to take a look around the storage unit for the rest of the money while you’re away?’

Ah, so it was the key she was searching for in my handbag last night.

Liv tries hard to cover her awkwardness upon asking, but I don’t let on that I know what she’s up to. I don’t feel comfortable with letting her search the unit by herself, not with the body inside. It’s something we all should be there for.

‘No, it’s okay. We’ll all do it as soon as I’m back, I promise.’

‘What if whoever emailed us makes good on their threat? We could be in danger while you swan off to the country.’

Liv’s head is possibly feeling a little sore this morning. I know mine is, and the last thing I want is to start another argument comparable to yesterday’s. Liv appears to think the same because she sighs straight after her harsh comment.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just … I’m scared, Mel.’

I take a step closer to her. ‘I know. Me too. I think we all are, but the sooner I can find out who killed Uncle Kevin and why, then we can work out where the money came from and hopefully put all this behind us.’

‘But we’re not going to hand over the million quid if we find it, though, right? I mean, whoever this is, they are clearly blackmailing us and think they have some sort of claim to the money.’

‘When it comes to a million pounds, I’m not sure the term “finders keepers” works anymore.’

‘What, like, there’s a limit to it?’

I stay quiet, walk away, and head upstairs to pack a few items in case I end up staying overnight. The storage unit key is safely stored in my handbag. It’s coming with me.

It only takes a little under two hours to drive to Aunt Eloise’s house, a quaint country cottage in the peaceful, intimate village of Snowshill. It’s a picturesque village, complete with a river running through the centre with a bridge across it. I remember visiting a lot as a child. Mary and I would spend several weeks of the summer here while Mum and Dad worked. Aunt Eloise saved up her holiday each year so she could spend time with us and take us out on camping trips.

I’m surprised she hasn’t been moved into a care home yet, due to her condition, but her cottage has been adapted to her needs, and she’s had a stairlift installed so she can still access the top floor. Her carer, Luca, comes in twice a day, sometimes more if needed, and if she ever needs to go anywhere close by, then she’s taken there and back again, like with the funeral.

Aunt Eloise greets me at the front door, waving at me with one hand while clutching the handle of her walker with the other. She’s just turned seventy, a little older than my mother was when she died, but despite the trembling and difficulty with her fine motor skills, her brain is still sharp, not like Mum’s was towards the end.

‘Melanie, love, a delight to see you again so soon.’ She places a shaky arm around me and kisses my cheek.

‘Hi, Aunty. Thanks for having me at such short notice.’

‘It’s no trouble at all. Come in. Come in. Let me put the kettle on. Luca has just left.’

‘I can do it,’ I say, stepping around her and making my way into the kitchen.

‘No, no, you’re all right. You’re my guest. You may have to spoon in the sugar though; otherwise it will end up all over the floor.’

I chuckle lightly, and we fall into a casual chat about the weather, the funeral and general stuff with my work and her daily life. All the while, I’m constantly trying to figure out a way to bring up Mum and Dad and Uncle Kevin. It’s not something I can blurt out. Mum and Aunt Eloise had a similar relationship to me and my sister. They weren’t close and never were as far as I know. In later life, they merely tolerated each other, but while Mary and I were young, my mum accepted that Eloise wanted a relationship with us. I’ve certainly never heard Aunt Eloise speak badly of Mum and vice versa.

‘How is Mary?’ asks Aunt Eloise, seemingly reading my mind. ‘I haven’t heard from her in some time. I didn’t see her at the funeral.’

I sip my now lukewarm tea. ‘I haven’t either.’

‘She’s always been a bit of a loose cannon, that one.’

I shrug. ‘Her and Mum were never close.’

‘Well, I know, but still … I’m sorry you had to deal with the funeral all by yourself. It was a lovely service. You did well with your speech.’

‘Thank you. It wasn’t that bad. I actually went back to Mum’s house afterwards. It’s a bit of a mess.’

‘That’s not surprising. Jane always was a bit of a hoarder.’

‘What about Dad? Do you know if he liked to collect odd things?’ My mind casts back to his locked office and all those pieces of weird antique medical equipment, which I’ve still not found an explanation for.

‘I’m pretty sure he had a thing for collecting scalpels or something.’ Aunt Eloise scratches her head. ‘But it’s been a while now. Fifteen years, isn’t it, since your dad died?’

‘Yes. It was so sudden.’

‘Such a tragedy,’ replies Aunt Eloise sadly. ‘Do you ever hear from Kevin?’

‘No. He … uh … left his family only a week or so before dad died.’

Aunt Eloise frowns at me for a moment. ‘Ah, yes. Now I remember. He and your dad had a bit of a hoo-ha.’

‘Do you know much about it?’

She shakes her head. ‘I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.’

My heart rate spikes as I realise she does know something. I put my cup down and lean towards her. ‘Please, Aunty, this is important. I really need to know what happened between Dad and Uncle Kevin fifteen years ago. Do you know anything or remember anything?’

‘Hmm, that was around the time that …’ Her right hand shakes badly as she reaches across to pick up a biscuit; then her whole arm drops onto her lap and refuses to move. She sighs and readjusts herself, then opens and closes her mouth.

I know she has trouble speaking for long periods of time, and every word she speaks is slow and deliberate, with her often stumbling over each syllable. I’m patient but eager, knowing there’s something important she has to tell me.

‘Your mother …’ she says. ‘I don’t know the full details because Jane didn’t confide in me in that way, but I do know that …’

‘Yes?’

Aunt Eloise takes a breath and tries again. ‘Your uncle Kevin, he was in love with Jane, with your mother … and your father found out.’

SIXTEEN

LIV

Mel left early this morning, and I’ve been pacing around her flat ever since, searching for the storage unit key, but it’s obvious she’s taken it with her, especially after our chat last night. We’re back on track with our friendship, but there’s still something that doesn’t feel quite right simmering under the surface between us. It’s making me uncomfortable.

I want to fix it. I want to fix everything. Hell, if I could, I’d go back in time and never remove that money from the storage unit. I should have listened to Mel and Jen, but my own greediness and desperation to escape my parents overran my decision-making skills. And now, I’m paying the price. I’m in too deep to turn back. The only option is to keep moving forwards.

Perhaps I should smooth things over with Jen. I owe her an apology for what I said and the way I treated her yesterday. The thought doesn’t fill me with warm, fuzzy feelings, but I went too far, and I need to apologise, even though I’m still silently seething that Mel gave Jen a share of her money and not me. I’m hoping if I can prove to Jen that I do care and love her, she’ll tell me why she needs the money so badly. I don’t like being left out of things or having them whispering and plotting behind my back.

When I arrive at Jen’s house after walking from Mel’s flat, I find the front door open and no car in the driveway. I quickly jog up the garden path and knock on the door.

‘Hello?’ I call out, stepping one foot over the threshold. Normally, when I visit, there’s screaming kids and a whole bunch of confusion and noise, but today I step into the hallway to silence. ‘Jen?’

Oh, God … what’s happened?

I peer around the doorway into the living room, where there is the usual mess and strewn toys everywhere. Why is the front door open? Where is everyone?

‘Liv?’

I spin around at the sound of William’s voice. ‘Will! Thank God!’ I place a hand over my heart, feeling the heavy thud, thud, thud beneath my palm. ‘I thought something bad had happened. The front door was open, and there’s no car in the driveway.’

‘I was upstairs packing a bag,’ he says.

‘Where are you going?’

‘It doesn’t concern you, Liv. What are you doing here?’ He’s short with me and quickly turns his back as his cheeks glow red.

‘I came to see Jen,’ I reply, matching his shortness. William and I don’t usually argue like this. We swap messages and tell jokes and have a laugh, but this person in front of me has changed, and I don’t know why. Does it have something to do with the money? Has Jen told him everything? I feel bad that I told him about the money before she did in my fit of rage. I shouldn’t have done that.

‘She’s not here,’ he says.

‘I can see that, but what’s going on? Why are you packing?’

‘Liv, for once in your life, will you just leave it alone? Why can’t you mind your own business. None of this concerns you, okay? We can’t be seen together. I need to look after my family. You need to leave. Now.’

His words send bolts of pain and confusion through my chest. He’s never pushed me away like this. We’ve shared stories of our families together. He moans about Jen and the kids and how they are sucking the life from his body on a daily basis, and I bitch about my parents and how they treat me like a child and won’t ever let me live my own life. His comments are always spoken in jest, but mine aren’t. That’s how it’s always worked with us, and yes, secretly I’ve always hoped he’d say he cared about me, but I’ve never expected him to leave Jen for me. All I’ve ever wanted is his love. I can’t lose him. He and Mel and Jen are all I have left in this world.

‘You need to look after your family? What about our friendship? We have history, William. We used to sleep together. How can that not mean anything to you? I thought we were friends.’ The words spill out of me, and I know I’m acting like a petulant child, but that’s how I’ve been treated my whole life by my parents. No one ever puts me first. I always have to fight for any sort of love and attention from anyone, be it parents or friends.

As I finish saying the words, William’s eyes widen and his jaw drops open. He’s staring straight past me, not even giving me the courtesy of looking at me.

‘William!’ I snap.

‘I think he heard you, Liv,’ says a voice from behind me.

My stomach drops as I turn to see Jen standing in the doorway, Roan on her hip. Her eyes are watering, her bottom lip quivering.

‘Jen, I–’ starts William.

‘Don’t!’

All words have left my brain. She knew we were friends when she and William met and first got together, but she didn’t know we’d dated before that. Well, she did, but we told her we had dated as kids, like a proper casual thing that didn’t even lead to second base. We did plan on telling her, but the more time passed, the harder it became, and in the end, we decided to keep the truth from her.

‘I can’t believe this,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘After everything … you’ve both lied to me for years.’

‘I wanted to tell you, Jen, but Liv said–’

‘Oh, that’s rich!’ I snap. The nerve of William turning the blame onto me! I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone always blames me because it’s easier to blame carefree, reckless Liv than face up to their own failings in life. It was William’s idea to keep it from Jen. I was the one who said we should tell her, but he said she’d never be able to get past it, and that her and my friendship would suffer, so I kept my mouth shut.

William’s nostrils flare as he turns to me. ‘Oh, fuck off, Liv. This is all your fault. Just get out!’

‘Don’t speak to her like that!’ cries Jen. Roan wails and kicks out his legs, begging to be freed from his mother’s grasp, but she holds him tight as she walks farther into the room. I’m not sure where the other child is – in the car, maybe.

‘I don’t even know what she’s doing here,’ says William. ‘She came here and demanded to know why we need the money. How does she even know? What is going on here?’

Jen and I swap glances, but I can tell she’s still pissed at me, so I can’t depend on her backing me up. I’m on my own – just like I’ve always been.

‘I – I can’t be here right now,’ says Jen. She walks swiftly towards William and passes Roan to him. ‘Beatrice is at playgroup. She needs picking up in an hour.’

‘Wait … what … where are you going?’ asks William, his eyes filling with terror.

‘Anywhere but here,’ says Jen, wiping away a tear. She bends and kisses Roan on the cheek. He reaches for her, still wailing and squirming, but this time to get back into her arms.

Jen turns and walks out of the room. I ignore William completely and rush after her, but by the time I reach the front door, she’s already in the car and backing out of the driveway.

‘Jen! Wait!’

The last I see of Jen is her piercing, hatred-filled eyes glaring at me as she puts the car in gear and drives away.

Oh, God. What have I done?

SEVENTEEN

JENNIE

The road is barely visible through my tears, which won’t stop no matter how many times I wipe them away with the cuffs of my jacket, which are now both wet. My whole world is falling apart, and I’m doing my best to grab onto and save the pieces, but it’s impossible. I keep dropping them, watching as they smash into a thousand more.

My husband slept with my best friend, and neither of them felt it was something they should tell me. It may have been years ago, before William and I were an item, but why wouldn’t they tell me? I know they have been friends for years, and before that, when they were teenagers, they casually dated, but I’ve never thought anything of it. I’ve trusted them completely. Not once has it crossed my mind that I should be concerned about them texting or swapping jokes, but now? Now I’m re-evaluating everything. Because now I know that they slept together and officially dated, it means at one time there were feelings between them. Were they in love? Was it a one-time thing, or was it serious? How long did they date? I’ve never been an insecure person before, never questioned my husband’s love for me, my attractiveness to him, but now …

Why is this bothering me so much? Is it because I think Liv is more attractive than me?

The barrage of questions won’t stop. I keep pushing them aside, but they continue their unrelenting stampede. I’m not sure I even want to know the answers. That they’ve kept this from me for so long really hurts. Have they been laughing about it behind my back, swapping stories of when they used to date? Oh, God, what if William has compared me to Liv in bed?

Liv has always been bisexual, but she’s admitted to sleeping with a lot more men than women, which means she has more experience than I do, but it’s never crossed my mind that William might want something more than what I give him. William was my first love, the first boy I slept with, whereas Liv has explored many avenues and partners. Does he regret settling for me? Since I’ve had kids, I haven’t put as much effort into our marriage as I once did, but that’s normal, I thought. He hasn’t been very forthcoming either with his desire for sex, but is that because he’s getting it from someone else?

Are they sleeping together now?

I am forced to pull over because I can’t see anything. I’m heading for the warehouse because it’s the only place I can think of to go. Mel is visiting her aunt. Does she know about this? Has she been lying to me as well?

Once the car has come to a stop, I pull out my phone, ignoring the multiple missed calls from Liv and William, and call Mel. She doesn’t answer. I need her calming voice in my ear right now, not my spiralling thoughts that only want to cause William and Liv pain and torment.

Maybe I should be mad at myself for not seeing it before. I feel guilty enough, leaving Roan behind with William and rushing off, but I need space to breathe, to think, to compose myself. Everything is too much.

I have the extra money from Mel in my bag, and William didn’t give me the contact details for the man I met, so I have no way of handing it over and making that pressure go away. Plus, now there’s someone out there who is threatening us, expecting us to hand over a million quid – a million quid that we don’t have and aren’t even sure exists.

I pull up at the warehouse car park, get out and unlock the doors, finding silence and a slight chill in the air, plus the smell of drying varnish. I head into the office kitchen to put the kettle on, but a clanking sound makes me spin on the spot, looking back towards the entrance.

‘Hello?’

Is it the man in the Toyota? Has he followed me again? The only saving grace is that this time I don’t have Roan with me, but the thought of being followed at any time, that he can tail me without my noticing, makes my skin crawl. Last time, he made it clear that he was following me, making no effort to hide his monstrous black vehicle, but I didn’t spot any tail while driving here.

It doesn’t mean he isn’t watching me though.

I tiptoe out into the main warehouse and scan the area. I left the door open, which I always do, but now I rush over and throw the bolt across.

Footsteps sound behind me.

A loud gasp escapes my throat as I turn and almost crash straight into …

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ says a man who’s familiar, but I can’t place him. Not straight away. My mind is elsewhere, too swamped with tears and betrayal.

‘How did you get in here? Who are you?’ I ask as I stumble away from him.

He holds his hands up to show he’s no threat. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you knew who I was. My name’s Isaac. I’m Mel’s cousin. I saw you briefly at the funeral, but …’

I let out a long sigh, remembering that I almost collided with him on my way out the door to go and rescue my children from the elderly neighbour. ‘Oh, of course. Yes, Isaac. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognise you.’

‘I thought you saw me follow you in.’

My eyes dart to the locked front door. ‘Uh, no, I’m a bit … distracted.’

You’ve just locked yourself in here with a man you don’t know.

‘Uh, are you here looking for Mel?’

‘Yes, actually, I am. I’ve recently found out that she’s not been telling me the whole truth.’

‘About what?’

‘My father.’

‘Your father?’ I feel silly when I echo his response, but I’m attempting to fit the puzzle pieces together without any reference to follow. We did briefly talk about him because Mel told us that she’d asked Isaac about the gold Rolex, and we figured out that the body is most likely his father.

As if Isaac can tell what I’m thinking, he asks, ‘Do you know anything about it, Jennie?’

How does he know my name? Did Mel introduce us?

I can’t think straight. Nothing is slotting into place the way it should. ‘No, I don’t know anything,’ I say quickly – too quickly.

Isaac furrows his brow and takes a small step towards me, making my heart rate spike. ‘I think you do.’

My eyes widen. ‘I … I don’t … listen, I’m sure if you call Mel, she’ll be able to explain everything.’

‘What is there to explain?’

The words get stuck in my throat, and I have to gulp forcefully.

‘You look worried,’ he says slowly. ‘I’m not here to deliver threats, but I don’t like being lied to.’

I back up several paces towards the office but find myself bumping into a wall. Oh, God. I’m trapped. I’ve trapped myself in the warehouse with a man who is making me very uncomfortable. My palms sweat as I clench my fists at my sides.

‘Please,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sure we can get this straightened out.’

‘There you go, talking in riddles again. Listen, Jennie, I’ve got no qualms with you, okay? All I want is for someone to tell me the goddamn truth!’ By the end of the sentence, his voice is raised and full of anger. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, glistening, and his body is trembling.

Is he the one who sent the threatening email to us? Does he know about the money? All of it?

I’m backed against a wall with no way out. My phone is in my pocket, and I can feel it vibrating against my leg, but I can’t move. I can barely breathe as I watch Isaac walk towards me.

EIGHTEEN

MEL

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I ask, ‘I’m sorry, did you just say that Uncle Kevin was in love with my mum?’

Aunt Eloise nods enthusiastically, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and everyone should know. ‘Oh, he was absolutely besotted with her.’

I have so many questions, too many to ask all at once, so I opt for the most obvious one. ‘Did she love him back?’

I can’t believe this. How have I never found out about that Uncle Kevin was in love with my mum? I barely knew Uncle Kevin, only enough to recognise him. He used to send birthday and Christmas cards up until he left, and I know he spent a bit of time with the family when Mary and I were kids. But on a personal level, I didn’t know him. My mum, on the other hand, I knew better than anyone else in my life. Or at least I thought I did. Now, I’m not sure. Both of my parents seem to have been rather skilled at keeping secrets from me over the years. Dad had his weird secret office full of ancient surgical equipment and may have murdered his brother and …

Is that why he killed him? Aunt Eloise said my dad found out about it, so that meant that Uncle Kevin had kept his feelings hidden for years. When did it start?

Aunt Eloise takes her time before answering, placing her shaking hands on her lap. Her voice wobbles and stutters as she explains, but she takes it slow, and I’m able to understand her quite well.

‘I’m not sure if it’s my place to tell you all this, Melanie.’

‘Mum is gone. There’s no one else to tell her story. You’re her sister. You must know something.’

Aunt Eloise smiles weakly, perhaps taking a moment to remember the good times with her sister. While I understand her conscience is preventing her from telling me about Mum’s past, there really is no one else who can help me fill in the blank spaces.

Aunt Eloise finally speaks. ‘Yes, I believe she did love him back. That was the problem. The thing is, Jane loved Kevin first. It was love at first sight, but something happened that kept them apart, and I never found out what it was. Then she got together with your father, and that was that. Kevin graciously stepped aside, but he always had feelings for her and she for him. Eventually, I assume, they couldn’t ignore their feelings any longer, and somewhere along the way, they were caught, and your father found out.’

Aunt Eloise stands on up wobbly legs and uses her walker to cross the room to where her cabinet is. She opens one of the doors and retrieves a photo album from inside. She could have asked me to fetch it, but that’s Aunt Eloise through and through. Mum was the same. Stubborn and independent until the end.

Aunt Eloise returns step by step to her chair, where she silently flicks through the photo album, seemingly searching for a specific picture to show me. I stay quiet, my brain working overtime, trying to figure out what all of this might mean.

Would Dad have killed Uncle Kevin over this?

Surely not.

What about Mum? Did she know about Uncle Kevin’s final fate? Or did she die believing he had run off and left to start another life in a different country, the same story that Isaac and his mother believed? How had that story come about, and who started it?

‘Ah, here it is.’ Aunt Eloise turns the album around and hands it to me. I take it just as she’s about to lose her grip, and study the photo on the page.

It’s of my mum and dad, Uncle Kevin and Aunt Eloise, taken roughly forty years ago, all looking considerably younger, less worn and, more importantly, happy. I’m not sure why Aunt Eloise wanted me to see this photo in particular, but the more I look, the more I see.

Uncle Kevin is wearing a gold Rolex on his left wrist, his arm draped around Mum’s waist, clutching it against him just that little bit tighter than is maybe deemed appropriate.

Dad is wearing a smile, but his eyes aren’t quite looking at the camera. He doesn’t have an arm around Mum, but is holding her hand, squeezing it tight, so that her fingers are squashed together. His eyes are focused slightly downwards, towards where his brother is touching his wife. No, wait, back then, they wouldn’t have been married. Not even engaged. There are no wedding rings on my parents’ fingers.

This was before Mum and Dad were a couple. I think back, remembering their relationship timeline. They told me they met in 1985 and were married in 1987. Mary and I were born in 1990.

‘When was this taken?’ I ask.

‘That was the summer of 1984,’ replies Aunt Eloise.

‘But they told me they met the year after,’ I say, still staring at the photo. Mum is grinning and looks so beautiful and happy. She’s wearing a floaty dress that’s nipped in at the waist. She would have been twenty-eight in this photo.

‘Hmm, well, my memory is as good as it’s always been, and it was definitely 1984.’

‘Why would they lie?’

‘Because a lot happened that summer that they probably didn’t want you girls to know about.’

‘Tell me,’ I say, lowering the album to my lap.

Aunt Eloise sighs sadly for a moment. Clearly, she’s still wrestling with her conscience about whether to continue to reveal her family’s secrets, but I’m her family too. And everyone else involved is dead. It’s not like they’re ever going to know she told me.

‘Please, Aunt Eloise. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Is that why you and Mum were never very close? Did something happen that year?’

She smiles weakly, her face slightly lopsided. ‘It was the summer that Jane and Kevin fell in love. Jane and I were travelling around the coast of Britain that year, and we stopped in Cornwall for a while, as it was so beautiful. That’s where we met the brothers. Malcolm was the tall, handsome one who exuded confidence, covered in tattoos, whereas Kevin was more laid-back, but he was handsome. He had a quiet fascination about him that Jane warmed to.’ Aunt Eloise smiles, looking out the window as a bird flies and perches on the tree outside.

‘We met on the second day. We were due to stay in Carbis Bay for only a week, but we ended up staying longer. It was a wonderful summer, and I noticed that Kevin and Jane were getting closer. Malcolm and I became friends too, but not in that sort of way. It was just lovely to spend time with young people our own age. None of us had children or families yet. All of us were taking our time in that area. Anyway, the second-to-last night we were there, something happened. Jane came running back to the room in floods of tears. I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me. Not straight away. She had a bruise on her arm and scratches on her cheek. Her dress was dirty.’

I suck in a breath and hold it, afraid of what my aunt is about to reveal.

‘Someone attacked her?’ I ask.

Aunt Eloise stops talking, taking a moment to catch her breath after her long speech. ‘That’s what I asked her, but she never told me what really happened.’

‘Never?’

Aunt Eloise shakes her head. ‘No. Never. I’m telling you the truth, Melanie. I don’t know what transpired that night, but whatever happened, it split Jane and Kevin apart. We all went our separate ways, and we didn’t speak about the brothers again. Not until the following year when we met again at our local church.’

‘Did Dad and Kevin move here?’

‘Yes, I believe so.’

‘Seems like a strange coincidence,’ I reply.

‘Hmm, yes, perhaps. Anyway, after that, it was Malcolm who pursued your mother, and eventually, they were married. You know the rest.’

I spend a few minutes in silence. Clearly, something bad happened in 1984, that night when Mum had bruises and scratches, but didn’t tell her sister. The fact that she and Kevin never got together or continued their romance suggests that it was he who hurt her, but why would he have done that if he loved her? If Dad had been the one to hurt her, then why would she have married him?

‘There was other stuff that happened too,’ continues Aunt Eloise.

‘Like what?’

‘Kevin got himself involved in some criminal activity.’

‘What sort of criminal activity?’

Aunt Eloise shakes her head. ‘I’m afraid I was never privy to that sort of information.’

‘When was this?’

Aunt Eloise looks up at the ceiling, recalling the long-lost memory. ‘Must have been fifteen or sixteen years ago. I think it started before that, but I never knew the details.’

That fits the timeline with the body being in the storage unit in 2011.

‘Malcolm wasn’t happy with what Kevin was up to and threatened to send him to jail on more than one occasion. Jane told me that Malcolm was very angry and that’s why the brothers fell out. The next thing I know, Jane’s telling me that Kevin has disappeared, left a note and said he’s taking off and starting a new life elsewhere to escape his past, leaving his family behind.’

‘Did you know Kevin’s family well? Isaac and his mum?’

‘No, not well at all, I’m afraid. Kevin kept to himself a lot. I assume because it was too painful to be close to Jane.’

‘Yeah, I remember,’ I say half-heartedly. ‘So they fell out over this criminal activity fifteen or so years ago, and that’s the last anyone heard from Uncle Kevin?’

Aunt Eloise shrugs her bony shoulders. ‘I certainly have never got a Christmas card since.’

We spend a few more hours chatting, but time is ticking by, and I need to get back to tell Liv and Jennie what I’ve discovered. I still don’t feel I’m any closer to solving the mystery, but all the clues are certainly pointing towards my dad killing Uncle Kevin, either over the criminal activity Kevin was a part of, or maybe something happened between Mum and Uncle Kevin and Dad found out and put a stop to it … permanently.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Liv.

‘Hi, Liv. Is everything–’

‘It’s Jennie. I can’t get hold of her. Neither can William. I think … I think something’s happened to her.’

NINETEEN

MEL

I bid a hasty goodbye to Aunt Eloise, promising I’ll visit again soon. I tell her perhaps I’ll stay for longer, but I have to get back to help a friend. Liv rings me en route, explaining that Jennie stormed out of her house in a state and handed Roan over to William. She doesn’t explain why or what happened, but I can take an educated guess.

It’s either something to do with the money or Jennie has found out about Liv and William’s dating history. Liv never told me directly, but back when we were younger, I noticed things between them that I never shared with the group. They wouldn’t have been together for very long, and I’m not sure why Liv never told us about dating him, but Liv dated and slept with so many people that Jennie and I rarely blinked an eye when she told us about her latest sexual experience and long boozy weekends while her parents were away.

By the time I pull up outside William and Jennie’s house, I still haven’t heard any good news. I race up to the front door and knock. Liv opens it and throws her arms around me, shaking.

‘Oh, Mel, I’ve fucked up big time.’

‘What happened?’ I ask, as we break away and make our way into the living room, where William is sitting with Roan on his lap, and Beatrice is playing with her toys.

William looks up at me. His face is hard, focused, but I can see the worry festering behind his eyes, creeping its way over his whole body.

‘William, what happened?’ I ask again.

He shoots Liv a dark look. They don’t need to say a word for me to pick up on the hostile vibe between them, which seems to be growing the longer he stares at her.

‘Look, whatever it is, let’s focus on Jennie right now,’ I say, determined to be the voice of reason.

‘She stormed out because we had an argument,’ says William. ‘But she’s not answering her phone.’

‘Have you searched for her?’

‘Not yet, but she’s got the car, so she could be anywhere.’

‘Wait, so you haven’t searched for her?’ I turn to Liv, who shakes her head.

‘No, I … Well, I don’t have a car either, so … and William has the kids, and Jennie took the car.’

‘Let’s go and drive around now,’ I say. ‘You stay here with the kids,’ I tell William.

‘I’m worried the loan shark may have got to her,’ says William out of the blue. He hasn’t told us directly about his money troubles, but I’m assuming he and Liv must have spoken about it, or maybe Jennie told him, but how much he knows is yet to be revealed. I need to be wary not to say too much.

‘Why do you say that?’ I ask.

‘Because … I just have a horrible feeling.’

My phone buzzes again. I quickly check the screen and realise it’s a notification from the business email account. I mostly ignore them, only checking emails properly on the laptop when I’m in the warehouse, but after the threatening email we received, I’ve been on high alert for any further correspondence.

For this reason, I click on the notification and suck in a breath when I read the short email.

The money for your friend. Meet at your warehouse.

Shit.

Someone does have Jennie.

Liv must realise something is wrong because she asks, ‘What is it?’

I show her the phone screen, and as soon as she reads it, she spins on her heel, and we head for the door.

‘Wait!’ shouts William, standing up with Roan and following us into the hallway. ‘What’s going on? Where are you going? Is it about Jen?’

Liv ignores him completely and heads straight to my car. I unlock it, and she climbs into the passenger seat, glaring at William through the windscreen. I turn on the spot and place a calming hand on William’s arm. Roan reaches to grab my fingers, and I let him, trying not to melt as he squeezes them in his tiny fist.

‘William, I can’t tell you everything right now, but you have to trust us. We’re going to get her back, I promise.’

‘I’m calling the police. This doesn’t feel right.’

‘No, please don’t. It’s too dangerous to involve them.’

‘Does this have to do with the money Jen had?’

‘Yes, and it’s going to get dangerous and complicated if the police are involved. Liv and I can handle it. She’s at the warehouse, and we’re going to get her.’

William pulls Roan tighter against him. ‘I don’t like this, Mel. You don’t know these people like I do. They are the dangerous ones. I’m worried you’re going to be walking into a trap. I should go with you. I’m the one who got my family into this mess. Jen shouldn’t have to be the one to get us out of it.’

I shake my head slowly. ‘I know it’s hard to understand, but I don’t think it’s the loan shark we’re dealing with here. I promise to try to explain everything, but only once we have Jen back, okay?’ While I’m speaking, I navigate to the email and delete it again. I don’t want there to be any trail if this goes south.

William readjusts Roan in his arms, unable to hold him in the normal way that mothers do by sitting them on their hip, sticking it out to the side. ‘Fine. But call me the second you have Jen and she’s safe.’

‘I will.’ I give him a quick squeeze and tickle Roan’s foot, but then William grabs my arm just as I turn to run to the car. ‘Jen knows about me and Liv,’ he whispers. ‘She was really mad and upset when she left.’

‘I’ll talk to her.’

‘Thanks, Mel. You’re a good friend.’ He lifts his head and looks towards the car, towards Liv. I leave him standing on his doorstep and join Liv in the car.

‘What did he say?’

‘He’s just worried about Jennie.’

Liv doesn’t ask any other questions as we head towards the warehouse. I have no idea what we’re about to walk into, but all I want is my friend back. Whoever this person is, we’re finally going to find out their identity and get to the bottom of this.

We may not be bringing the money with us, but we can explain that we haven’t yet searched the storage unit, so the rest of the money is likely still inside. They can have everything that’s left. We only want our friend back.

‘What’s your plan?’ asks Liv as I navigate the roads and traffic.

‘We find out who this person is and go from there. If they want the money, then we can tell them where to find it.’

‘But my share is gone, so is most of yours, and Jen has given hers to the loan shark. I’m assuming you don’t think this person is the shark?’

‘I don’t think so. I think it’s someone else.’

I slam on the brakes once inside the car park, not even bothering to use a parking space. I leave the car parked haphazardly across the main area. We race to the front door, which is locked. I slam my fists on the door, but don’t wait for an answer before using my own key and unlocking the door.

Why would they have locked the door from the inside if they are expecting us?

The second I step inside, Liv hot on my heels, I know something is wrong. The air is too still, too empty of anything, even oxygen. I’m finding it hard to breathe as my eyes focus on a dark object lying in the middle of the warehouse on the cold, concrete floor.

Liv screams at the exact moment I realise what it is. Who it is.

Jennie.

TWENTY

MEL

A blood-curdling scream claws its way up my throat as Liv throws herself towards Jennie, crashing her knees against the concrete next her without a second thought as to how much it will hurt. Once I start screaming, I can’t stop, or perhaps it’s merely the echo that travels around the vast warehouse.

I stare at the scene in front of me, unable to do anything else as Liv cries and grabs at Jennie, shaking her, but getting covered in blood in the process, which is pooling around the body.

The body.

Jennie’s body.

Another wail escapes as tears stream down my cheeks. It feels as if I’ve been stabbed in my heart. I slowly walk up to Liv, reaching out my hand, feeling around for a part of her to grab. She needs to get away from Jennie. She’s contaminating the crime scene, because that’s exactly what this is. Someone has murdered our friend in cold blood in our place of business, and Liv is kneeling in blood and touching everything and …

‘Liv! Get away from her. Get away from her now!’

‘She’s not dead!’

What is she talking about? Of course she’s dead.

‘Liv!’

‘No!’ Then, like a light switch, Liv turns off.

Just stops moving. Like she’s a robot that’s manually shut down, still kneeling beside Jennie.

‘Liv?’ I step closer, coming around to the side so I can see Liv’s face. She’s catatonic, completely unable to function. Her eyes aren’t blinking or anything.

Oh, God. From this angle, I can see Jennie’s face. Her eyes are closed, blood smeared across her cheek. I’ve no idea what the cause of death is other than loss of blood. There’s no murder weapon I can see around her. Liv’s hands are covered in blood, resting palms up on her lap.

‘Liv, you have to move. I’m going to call the police. You have to …’ Something white catches my eye. Liv hasn’t noticed, but it’s a white piece of paper lying nearby in the pool of blood.

I know I shouldn’t touch it, but it draws me in. Gingerly creeping forwards, I reach out and pluck it from the blood with pinched fingertips, then unfold it.

You don’t seem to be treating this seriously. Now you know just how serious this is. You have one week to give me ALL the money, or I’ll make things even worse.

I can’t breathe. Why have they changed their minds? Did they know we were coming here without the money? Whoever killed her must now realise that the police will be involved. We cannot lie about this anymore. They have now stepped things up a notch, and nothing can ever be taken back.

Leaving Liv staring blankly ahead, I rush into the back office where the safe is, only to find it wide open. Did Jennie remove the other twenty grand before she died, or did they force her to open it and take the money themselves?

What does this mean?

I’m still trying to get my head around who it is who’s threatening us and who’s killed Jennie. There’s no CCTV in the warehouse itself, only in the office and the front entrance. Perhaps it was able to catch whoever it was who came here and killed her.

I return to the warehouse, to the scene that is filling my heart with so much grief that I can barely take a breath. It hurt when Mum died, but this is different. This isn’t a natural loss. This is a brutal murder. This was because of what we did, the choices we made.

This is my fault.

I could have changed this, could have done so many things differently, but everything we did and didn’t do has led up to this moment. And there’s now nothing I can do to take it back.

‘Liv,’ I say softly.

I don’t manage to call her again because I’m distracted by blaring sirens outside. I heard them several minutes ago, getting louder, but hadn’t clocked that they were coming here. The sounds make my insides turn to ice, and without thinking of the implications of hiding evidence, or the fact that the note has blood on it, I shove the note into my bra.

The police are here. Someone has called them, but who?

And Liv is kneeling in a pool of blood in front of Jennie’s dead body.

She’s still not responding, so I leave her and rush to the front door, yanking it open just in time to see two police cars pull up either side of my car, which is blocking the area.

I raise my hands without being asked. They have firearms attached to their holsters and have full gear on, including stab vests.

‘Ma’am, please take three steps forwards and turn around so we can approach and search you.’

I do as they say, blinking back tears as a female officer identifies herself and starts running her hands over my body.

‘What’s your name?’

‘My name is Melanie Brookes. I’m the owner of this business and warehouse. It’s my friend. She’s inside. She’s dead. My other friend Liv is there too. She’s not hurt, but she’s in shock and is kneeling by the body.’

‘Has she touched anything?’

‘Yes. She tried to save Jennie, but … I was about to call you, but then you arrived.’

‘We received an anonymous tip that someone has been murdered. You’re clear but stay out here while we assess the scene. You’ll be questioned and are expected to cooperate.’

‘Yes,’ I say.

It’s only when she’s left me with another officer that I remember the note I stuffed into my bra. Now is the time to tell the police about everything, but how am I supposed to explain? I can barely make any sense of it myself. We’ve got ourselves tangled and trapped in a complicated web of our own lies and our own doing.

I’m not sure what state Liv is in now that the police are here, but within a few minutes, she’s brought outside, handcuffed. She looks at me but says nothing. Her make-up is smudged across her eyes and down her cheeks. Her hands are still covered in blood, along with her jeans and top. She looks like a survival victim herself.

We lock eyes and cry at the same time. I want nothing more than to rush to her and hug her tight, but we are kept separate, on opposite sides of the car park, which has already been cordoned off with yellow tape. Everything feels so real now. This is happening. But I can barely feel my body. My senses are off. My fingers are numb. People rush around me at a million miles an hour. I’m being asked questions, but the words don’t make any sense.

When did you last see the deceased?

Is there anyone we can call?

What happened when you arrived?

What time did you arrive at the scene?

My mouth opens and closes, but I don’t hear the words coming from my mouth as I’m led through more questions and am asked for a DNA swab. I give them the keys to the warehouse and provide the log-in details for the laptop and CCTV.

At one point, I’m left standing by myself outside after being told that someone will be with me shortly to ask even more questions. I’m not sure I have anything left to tell them. I feel like I’ve repeated myself six times already.

I flag down a passing officer. ‘Excuse me, but … has Jennie’s husband been informed?’

‘Yes, he’s on his way,’ comes the short response.

I nod my understanding, hoping and praying that he doesn’t bring the kids. I’m not sure I can stomach seeing them, asking where their mother is.

Oh, God.

The thought alone makes me break down in tears, collapsing to my knees. I’m not sure if I can do this. How are we supposed to continue from here? Jennie is dead. Someone killed her. She was a mother, a friend, a wife, and now she’s gone, and it’s all my fault.

As I kneel and weep, I hear snippets of conversations around me.

‘Throat slashed …’

‘The safe in the office is open …’

‘Post-mortem ordered …’

Her throat was slashed. I grab my own, choking on my tears. A hand touches my back.

‘Ma’am, can I help in any way?’ The kind officer smiles down at me, but I don’t deserve his sympathy or kindness. I should be locked up for what I’ve done, but right now, I can’t see any way back, any way out of this chaos. Not without one of us going down for everything. Maybe both of us.

Jennie has already paid the ultimate price.

A car skids to a stop at the entrance to the car park, but because of the way the two police cars and my car are parked, it can’t get any closer. The driver’s side door is flung open, and William charges towards me, screaming Jennie’s name.

A police officer rushes towards him, hands out, attempting to calm him, but I know there’s no chance of anything being calm. William catches my eye.

‘Mel! I trusted you!’

I burst into tears again as I race to his side. He pushes me away.

‘What’s happened?’ he asks.

‘What have the police told you?’

‘Jennie, she’s been involved in a situation. I was told to come here immediately. Is she hurt?’ His words all come tumbling out at once.

He doesn’t know …

The police didn’t tell him that his wife is dead over the phone.

Am I supposed to tell him?

The officer steps forwards. ‘Mr Smithson, your wife has …’

‘No, please, I’ll tell him,’ I say.

The officer nods, but stands close by, no doubt knowing he’ll be needed very soon.

‘Are the kids in the car?’ I ask William.

‘No, I thought it best I leave them with the neighbour. Only for a little while. Where’s Jennie?’

I gulp back my emotion, which is threatening to spill from me again, and tell him the truth. I talk slowly, carefully, choosing every word with care, but no matter how I deliver the line, it won’t change the outcome, nor will it ease the pain.

‘Jennie is dead.’

TWENTY-ONE

MEL

The next few hours whizz by in a swirling black vortex of questions, cold tea in Styrofoam cups and more questions. They never end. I start to feel as if I’m never going to be allowed to leave, all while a knot forms in the pit of my stomach, which tightens the longer I’m at the police station in the grey little room. It makes me break out into a sweat on more than one occasion, and I have to go and stand by an open window for several minutes. I tell the police I’m in shock. It’s true, but it’s also because I’m withholding so much information from them, including the cash that was in the safe and where I got it from. The lies roll off my tongue so easily that I find I’m horrified at myself for doing such a thing. A part of me wonders if they know I’m hiding something. Why else would they keep asking me the same questions? But I can’t tell them everything. Not yet. Not until I know more about how my uncle came to wind up in that unit and who the person is who’s threatening us.

When I told William that Jennie was dead, he understandably lashed out and had to be forcibly restrained to stop him from barrelling into the warehouse to see her body. He didn’t believe it. He shouted at me, called me names, swore at the top of his voice, and I stood there and took it all, accepted it, because I deserved everything and more.

Liv and I are in separate rooms. William is here somewhere too, but I don’t know what his situation is. He’s probably in too much distress to answer questions. I have no idea what he’s going to tell them with regards to the loan shark he’s been dealing with, but I expect he’ll want to come clean. He blames me, but he’ll also blame himself too, for hiding his debt from Jennie in the first place.

The police ask me a lot of questions to do with the business, including how much money was in the safe. I tell them I didn’t keep cash in the safe, only important things such as insurance documents and an external hard drive. I ask about the CCTV and if anyone was caught on it, but all they say is that the investigation is ongoing.

What does that mean? Are they in the process of tracking someone down and arresting them?

Hours later, I’m still in the small room, sitting on a hard chair. My stomach is rumbling, and my head feels as if a mini-drill is trying to dig to the surface. My butt has fallen asleep multiple times, so I’ve already completed several hundred laps of the room, switching up the direction of travel. It’s mind-numbing and frustrating being here, not knowing what’s going on, whether Liv and I are a hair’s width away from being thrown in prison for tampering with evidence and withholding information. All I want to do is go home and cry until I have nothing left, but the police still have more questions.

My mind keeps drifting to Liv and what she’s telling them. We didn’t have time to get our story straight before we were whisked away to separate rooms, split apart like common criminals. I can’t imagine she’d be telling them about the money. It was her idea to keep it a secret in the first place.

I’m being interviewed by a middle-aged woman who looks like she doesn’t take any shit from anybody. She’s intimidating, and every time she looks at me, I want to lean back in my chair. Her eyes could bore a hole in solid rock.

‘Your best friend was brutally murdered in your warehouse, yet you claim you have no idea why. Is that what you’re saying?’

Her tone and the way she’s phrased her question makes me do a double take. I don’t want to slip up and admit to something because I didn’t listen to the question properly.

‘Uh, I … No, I don’t know why she’s been killed.’

‘Do you consent to handing over your laptop and all other electronic items from your place of work?’

‘I … haven’t I already done that?’

‘Yes, but we need your consent before we can gain access to it.’

‘Do I have to give it?’

‘You don’t have to, but it would help with our investigation, and if it turns out that you’re hiding evidence, then you could be charged with perverting the course of justice.’

A large ball of anxiety forms in my stomach. She’s trying to scare me. I’m sure of it. I feel like I need a lawyer or some advice from a professional because I have no idea what to say or what rights I have. The truth is, I am trying to hide evidence, and if they find out I’ve deleted emails, they will know that I’ve lied.

Do I cut my losses now and admit what I’ve done?

Will I be sent to prison?

‘I … I don’t know anything. And yes, I already provided the laptop and log-in before, so yes.’

‘Is there anything else you feel may be of use to the investigation?’ says the scary-looking officer whose name I can’t remember. She introduced herself at the start of the interview, but it has slipped my mind.

I’m asked about my current situation, and I explain that the business is struggling financially. She asks for information that I don’t have with regards to money, so I tell her I’ll get the details as soon as I can. Next, she asks me about my parents and family, which is a new angle.

‘My dad died fifteen years ago from a sudden heart attack, and my mum has died recently.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Your mother’s death, was it natural causes?’

‘Uh, yes, she died after a nasty case of pneumonia. She was also in the early stages of Alzheimer’s.’

The officer writes in her notebook, but my mind is spinning after her seemingly normal question: Was it natural causes?

My mind doesn’t think immediately of Mum’s death, but Dad’s. The police officer hasn’t asked me any further questions about his death because she doesn’t know what could have happened fifteen years ago. She has no idea about the body in the storage unit and how all this is related. But I do. I can’t get the thought out of my head.

Did Dad die of a heart attack? Or was he murdered along with Uncle Kevin?

Nothing makes any sense. I wish I could look back in time and see the answers in front of me, but there’s no one else alive right now who can give them to me. It’s up to me to find them for myself. If I tell the police, it could take months, years even. I’ve seen the news and social media posts. These things don’t happen overnight. It would take far too long to explain everything, by which time, Jennie’s murderer could be long gone.

I leave the police station four hours later with a heavy heart and a backache, along with a warning to not leave the area or go back to the warehouse until they’ve given me the all clear. Apparently, news vans are already congregating in the car park, desperate and hungry for a piece of juicy information or a front-page-worthy photo.

My car has been driven back to my house, so I call an Uber to take me home. Liv hasn’t responded to my messages, so I’m unsure where she is, but at least if I’m home, I can drive back and pick her up whenever she needs me.

I look up when I hear my name being called.

‘Isaac?’

It’s almost dark now, so it’s difficult to make out his facial features in the dim light.

‘Hi, Mel.’

‘What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?’

‘I’m a cop, remember? Heard it through the grapevine.’ His tone and demeanour have changed since the last time we spoke, when he was nothing but forthcoming and warm. Now, he’s blunt, and his tone carries no care or compassion. He’s not here because he’s worried about me or wants to make sure I’m okay. He’s here for answers – answers I still don’t have.

What if he killed Jennie?

The thought pops into my head so quickly that it takes my breath away.

‘What did you hear?’ I ask, checking my phone screen for the arrival time of the Uber driver.

Ten minutes.

‘I heard your friend was killed. I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you. Listen, it’s been a really long day, and I’m exhausted and need to get home, so …’

‘I know you know something about my father, Mel. Your dad and mine had a falling-out fifteen years ago, and your dad had something to do with mine leaving.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t, but you do. I don’t know what you know, but you know something. I will get to the bottom of this one way or another, and it would be beneficial for you and everyone else involved if you cooperate.’

Again, the formal, uncaring tone. He’s in cop mode, not dissimilar to the officer who interviewed me in the little grey room earlier. He creeps closer and closer, and with every step, the hairs on the back of my neck stand straighter and straighter.

‘Isaac, I promise you that I don’t know anything. I’ve already told you that.’

‘I think you’re lying.’

‘You can think whatever you like, but it won’t change the fact that I have nothing to say to you, so please leave me alone before I–’

‘Before you what? Call the cops? I am the cops, Mel, and I have a lot of friends in a lot of high places who will happily bend the rules to help me find out what happened to my father.’ He steps away. ‘Think about it, yeah?’ And then he walks away, leaving me shaking and breathless.

Isaac just threatened me. Yet another threat to add to the one I already have.

I spend the next few minutes holding back the floodgates while I wait for my Uber, only breaking down once he drops me off and I reach my front door.

TWENTY-TWO

LIV

One minute, I’m screaming and crying over Jen’s body, and the next, I’m falling apart and can barely function. My blank state only lasts a few minutes. When I enter the police station, I realise how real and dangerous this situation is. I can’t sit and stare blankly into space. The police will think I had something to do with it. They are already questioning me and taking samples and whispering to each other, casting glances in my direction.

Jennie is dead.

I don’t know how to begin to handle or process that, but I have to because, despite our falling-out beforehand, William needs me. Our argument seems so petty in the grand scheme of things. So what if we slept together a million years ago? His wife is dead, and there’s a strong possibility that I’m responsible.

I’m stripped of my blood-soaked clothes and given a plain set of jogging bottoms and a T-shirt to wear, along with an ugly pair of cotton underwear. I go through the motions and do whatever the police ask me to do. Swabs are taken of the blood covering my hands and legs. My DNA is taken and nail clippings too. My clothes are bagged up and sealed.

It’s fine. I have nothing to hide when it comes to her death. The evidence will show I had nothing to do with it. I fell apart when I saw her lying there and didn’t think before I rushed over. Surely, they’ll understand it was human nature to want to try to help, even though I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was dead the second I laid eyes on her. I get asked a multitude of questions over and over. I know what they’re doing. They’re trying to trip me up. They ask questions back to front and front to back and use different words, hoping I’ll not realise and give them a different response.

I keep my answers short and to the point, hoping Mel is doing the same. At one point, another officer comes in and tells me that William has asked to see me. I’m allowed out of the room to see him straight away. He’s a complete mess. He throws his arms around me and squeezes me so tight that I struggle to breathe for several minutes. I don’t say a word. What can I say that will make any of this better for him?

The police allow us some time together, and when William can finally string more than a couple of words together, he asks me to stay with him for the night at his house. He’s scared and alone, and I know he’s worried about the kids too. He keeps repeating that he needs to get back to them.

It’s late by the time William and I are released from the station. I’m told that Mel has already been released and has gone home. Why didn’t she wait for us? Did she know we were going to be here longer? Why were William and I held longer than her?

I call Mel and ask her to pick William and me up. She comes straight over, and together, we get William home. His neighbour has already fed and put the kids to bed, but Beatrice wakes up when we enter and calls out for her mummy.

Mel and I look at each other and break apart at the seams. William climbs the stairs as if he is climbing his way to his death. Every step is agony for him, I can tell, and all I want to do is fix it, but this is something that can never be fixed, no matter how hard we try. I have no idea what William is going to tell the kids. I’ve never been good with children, even at the best of times. They won’t understand or have any idea of what’s happened or why. This is one reason why I’ll never procreate, because the thought of innocent children suffering in any way is enough for me to say no to being a mother. I don’t have good parents, so how can I possibly know how to raise a child in the right way that won’t have them turning out like me? Broken, selfish and untrustworthy.

Despite the hour, Mel puts the kettle on and tidies the kitchen while I wait anxiously at the bottom of the stairs for William to come back down, but after fifteen minutes he doesn’t appear, so I tiptoe upstairs and peer into Beatrice’s room. He is lying in her bed with her cuddled next to him, and they are both fast asleep. Beatrice has her hands clenched around a fluffy toy. I quickly check on the baby, who is snoring softly, and say a silent prayer that he doesn’t wake up because I have no idea how to feed and change him.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper as I leave everyone to sleep. At least in their dreams, they’ll be able to see their mother. It’s the only place any of us will be able to see her now.

Returning downstairs, I find Mel at the kitchen sink, staring blankly out the window into the darkness of the garden.

‘They’re all asleep,’ I tell her. Mel doesn’t answer, just keeps staring. I don’t want to bring it up, but I need to know what she told the cops. ‘What did the police ask you? What did you tell them?’

This makes Mel turn and look at me with stern eyes. ‘That’s all you’re worried about right now?’

‘No, of course not, but … we didn’t get a chance to get our story straight before we were questioned, so I wanted to make sure we both were on the same page. That’s all.’

Mel turns away from me, dries her hands and heads into the living room. ‘I can’t even …’

‘I know,’ I say.

‘Jennie found out about your past with William, didn’t she? That’s why she left the house in a hurry.’

‘Yes. I didn’t realise you knew about that.’

‘Why keep it a secret? Do you love him?’

The question catches me off guard. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because now that Jen is dead, my answer holds a whole new meaning. ‘Yes, I do,’ I reply, but saying it out loud for the first time snaps me in half. Before I know what’s happening, tears erupt, and I sink to my knees on the carpet. ‘It’s my fault!’

Mel doesn’t rush to my side or make any move to comfort me. Instead, she sits down on the sofa in front of me while I stay on the floor with a Lego piece sticking to my leg.

‘It’s my fault she’s dead,’ I say again. ‘If I hadn’t come here and snapped at William, she wouldn’t have overheard us and stormed out. She was devastated. I’ve never seen her like that before. I betrayed her.’

‘Liv, it’s not your fault that she’s dead. It’s our fault.’

I look up at Mel. Her eyes shine with tears.

‘We need that money,’ I say. ‘The one point two million. Whoever this person is thinks we have it, but we don’t. How do we contact them? We’re in an impossible situation. Every scenario I think of involves having to tell the police about the body and the money, and I don’t want anyone to get in trouble. I wish there were a way we could just go back to the start.’

Mel nods. ‘I wish there were too, but we have to be smart about this.’

‘I think William and the kids are in danger. At the police station, William told me that the house now belongs to the loan shark, and because William has told the police about them, then they’re going to come after him. Either that, or they’re going to lie low for a while until this blows over and then strike. William and the kids need to get out of this house and somewhere safe.’

‘Where can they go?’

‘William has family who I’m sure have been told about what’s happened.’

Mel stares at the floor, her shoulders hunched, like it’s too much of a strain to stand up straight. ‘I think you’re right. William will need help with the kids, and there’s only so much we can do. He needs his family around him now, not us.’

That hurts me to hear more than she realises. I love William with all my heart, but I can’t be whom he needs right now. I can’t be his support at this time because I’m the reason Jennie’s dead. If I spent time around him, I’d feel guilty and would have to constantly lie to him. That’s not what I want. He deserves better.

‘How did your interview with the police go?’ asks Mel.

‘From what I could gather, they think the loan shark killed her, so they’re looking into them above anything else. I told them there was no money in the safe. Did you find anything out from your aunt?’

‘Gosh, yes. I’d forgotten.’ Mel rubs her eyes, tiredness evident. ‘Everything is such a blur.’

Mel proceeds to tell me everything she learned from her aunt while she was away, and by the end, my head feels as if it’s about to explode.

‘So it’s likely your dad really did kill your uncle, but not over the money. Over the fact your uncle was in love with your mum.’

‘It’s looking that way, yes,’ replies Mel. ‘I really think we need to tell the police about the body in the storage unit.’

‘No, not until we’ve searched it again for the money.’

‘This is dangerous now, Liv. Jennie is dead.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that!’

Mel bites her bottom lip. I can tell she’s holding back her anger against me. She blames me for everything, I know she does, even though she said we were both at fault. I blame myself too, but I refuse to roll over and let the cops deal with this. Isaac is a cop too, and I don’t trust him.

‘I don’t know what else to do,’ says Mel.

‘Looks like we’re at an impasse,’ I reply.

TWENTY-THREE

MEL

I sleep on the sofa in Jennie’s house, while Liv takes the pull-out sofa in the dining area. I lie awake, staring at the family photo above the fireplace, knowing that there will never be an updated photo as the children grow up. Their family photos will forever be missing a special person, forever frozen in time, and all because I’ve made such stupid, reckless decisions.

I used to always see myself as level-headed and smart. I was the one who went to study art and design at university and who started their own business. I was the one who was good with money and got on well with her parents. Now, it seems none of that is true, and within the past week, I’ve gone from someone who used to feel guilty over not tipping at a restaurant, to stealing money from a dead body and covering it up. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t understand how I’ve let myself get this far, become someone who lies to the police and who hides evidence because it will make me look bad.

I don’t see a way out. I blame Liv, and I also blame myself. Liv should have told Jennie years ago that she was in love with William. It would have been weird and awkward, but Jennie would have understood. I don’t know what would have happened, but anything would have been better than this. There’s no way back. She’s dead. Done. That’s it.

The run-in with Isaac outside the police station is also playing on my mind. He knows something is wrong. I don’t know how, but he’s a police officer. That does not bode well for me, especially considering the threat he made. He’s right. He probably does have friends in high, powerful places, and he can easily ensure I go away for what I’ve done: hiding evidence and lying to the police.

I can’t let him know about his father’s body. Not yet.

No one knows about it other than me and Liv. If the body were to disappear, then we could reveal the information about the money and the threatening emails. Yes, we’d get in trouble with the police, but not as much as if they were to find a body in the storage unit too. I had nothing to do with it being there, but my family may have. My family home will be searched, and God only knows what else Mum and Dad hid within the walls. It’s not only myself I have to protect, but them too. I love them both, and they don’t deserve to have their memories tarnished by this. Uncle Kevin, by the sounds of it, was not a good person and was caught up in criminal activities that led him to be murdered. If my dad killed him, then there must have been a good reason. He wouldn’t have killed him over Mum, right?

It plays on my mind all night as I try to come up with excuses for my dad and why he might have been pushed to kill his own brother.

By the morning, I may not have got much sleep, but I do have a plan. I get up early, ready to tell Liv, but she’s gone, the sofa made up and put back to its original design. William is with the kids, making breakfast and playing with them, but he looks rough and barely says a word other than to tell me that his parents are on their way. They live far up north but are coming down to stay with him for as long as he needs them.

‘William, I think it’s best if you maybe go and stay with them instead for a while,’ I say, while helping him sort out the kids’ breakfasts.

‘The police said not to go anywhere in case I’m needed for further questions.’

‘Yes, but I don’t think you’re safe in this house. The loan shark knows where you live, and they own it now.’

William sighs and rubs his eyes. ‘I’ll speak to the police first. They are in the process of looking for the loan shark. I know what I did was wrong, borrowing money from an illegal source, but they are just as much in the wrong as I am.’

‘I understand. Good idea,’ I say. ‘Listen, I, uh … I have to head out for a bit. Are you going to be okay? What time do your parents arrive?’

‘They’re on their way now, so they’ll be here in a few hours. You go. Do whatever it is you have to do.’ He won’t look at me, not even for a second. ‘But before you go, I need to know something, Mel. I deserve to know the truth about what was going on with Jen and the money she paid the loan shark. I haven’t mentioned it to the police, but I need to know where it came from. I’ve been blaming myself, thinking she was killed because of me, because of my fuck-up with money, but what if it wasn’t my fault? What if it was yours and Liv’s?’

His words hurt like a stab to the gut. He’s right. Of course he’s right. He does deserve to know the truth, but I can’t tell him. Not now. Not yet.

‘I want to tell you everything, William. I do, but it’s too dangerous. I promise to tell you when this is over. Jennie didn’t tell you because she was trying to keep you safe. I’m doing the same. You have to trust me that I’ll tell you when the time is right.’

William finally looks at me. There’s so much pain and hurt in his eyes that I am forced to look away for fear of bursting into tears.

‘How can I ever trust you or Liv again?’ he asks.

I reach out and stroke Roan’s soft hair as he chews on a plastic spoon after sucking off some porridge. ‘I’m so sorry, William.’

He offers no reply. My apology isn’t good enough, and it never will be. I know that. Nothing will ever be good enough or bring Jennie back, but I need to try to do something.

I have a plan.

I leave the house and pull my jacket tighter around my body as a strong wind whips across the street. I get in my car and call Liv. She picks up after the first ring.

‘Hey, sorry I left the house early. I needed some fresh air.’

‘Where are you?’ I ask.

‘Just sorting a few things out with regards to my stuff at my parents’ house.’

‘Okay, listen, I think you’re right. We have to move the body and search the storage unit. Get rid of everything inside, all the evidence.’

‘Since when have you had a change of heart?’

‘I was thinking a lot last night, and if the body is gone, then this all goes away. I can talk all day about my moral compass and doing the right thing, but the truth is, we’ve gone past all that now. We just need to get justice for Jennie and end this.’

There’s a short pause on the line. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Can I come and pick you up? We can go to the unit together.’

‘Uh, give me an hour, yeah? I’ll meet you there. Don’t do anything without me.’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I’m going to head to the business warehouse and see how long it will be until we can gain access.’

‘Let me know what the police say. See you later.’

‘Bye, Liv.’

I hang up, turn the ignition on, put the car in gear and head to the warehouse, wondering what scene will await me. I know the police said to stay away for a while, but I need to see what I’m dealing with. I still have a business to run, and without access to the warehouse, I’m unable to do anything. I don’t even have my laptop anymore, since the police took it. I can’t liaise with clients or auctioneers or even send out an email blast. It won’t be long until word gets out that there’s been a murder on the premises. Then what?

All eyes will turn on me and Liv and why our business partner was killed and found in the middle of the floor with her throat slashed.

A brutal murder like that will likely make headline news, and once something like that gets out, there’s no going back. The business won’t recover. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.

I can’t get access to the car park. It seems the police have cordoned off the whole road, meaning other businesses have restricted access too, but at least they can enter their buildings on foot. I get out of my car and walk to the start of the crime scene tape.

There’s a police officer standing guard. No doubt they’ve had a lot of onlookers and nosey journalists wanting to gain access and get a shot of the body.

I wonder if she’s been removed yet.

The idea of calling Jennie a body is enough to make my stomach turn.

She’s my friend. Was my friend. And now she’s a statistic on a police crime board.

The officer clocks me as I walk towards him. He straightens up, as if gearing up for a confrontation, but before he can get a word out, I say, ‘I’m Melanie Brookes, the owner of the business.’

‘Ah, hello, Ms Brookes. I saw you around yesterday when it happened. How are you?’ I’m touched by the officer’s kindness, but it knocks me off guard, and a lump immediately forms in my throat.

‘I’m okay.’ It’s a lie. A complete lie. I’ll never be okay again. ‘Is there any update as to when I’ll be allowed inside?’

The officer shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid not. It won’t be for several days at least. There’s still a lot of testing to be done.’

‘Has she … has, um …’

‘Yes, the body has been removed from the premises and taken in for a post-mortem. Is there anything you need from inside the building? I can escort you if need be.’

I shake my head. ‘No, not really. Thanks anyway.’

‘We’ll be in touch when we know more.’

I return to my car. On the walk back, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s an alert to a BBC news article, and the second my brain registers the headline, my tongue turns to sandpaper.

No. No. No. No.

An article has been published.

Mum of Two Found Murdered in a Local Antique Warehouse.

She hasn’t been named yet, nor have me and Liv, but the business has. It won’t take people long to find out the connection, to find me. My suppliers, contacts and clients will be tarred with the same brush. They’ll drop us.

I climb into my car and sob into my hands. Everything is ruined. All my hard work, time and money that’s gone into the business has been for nothing. I’ve lost not only one of my best friends, but my livelihood and career. All gone in the blink of an eye.

What happens now?

I feel as if I’m standing at the bottom of a deep, dark pit, looking up at the light above with no way of getting there, just steep walls all around, squeezing closer and closer. No ladder. No help. Nothing.

My phone buzzes again, but I don’t look at it.

My skin crawls with anxiety. I’ve never felt so alone. My parents are dead. My sister doesn’t talk to me. One of my best friends has been murdered, and I can’t trust the other. It’s at a time like this I would turn to Jennie for support and advice. She always knew what to do, or at least was a voice of reason who would get me back on the straight and narrow. Without her, I feel as if I’m walking along a dark, winding road in the dark with predators on either side. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I’m afraid.

My phone buzzes again, so I look at the screen, surprised to see Isaac’s name after how we parted ways the last time we spoke. I can only assume he’s calling to ask the same question.

‘Hello, Isaac.’

‘Are you ready to talk yet?’

‘Look, I don’t know everything, but I do know some things about your father that you may find useful, so yes. Name a time and place. Somewhere public.’

‘You don’t trust me?’

‘Not after you threatened me, no.’

‘I’ll send you a pin. Ten minutes.’

He hangs up without waiting for my reply. His manner and tone aggravate me. Liv was right. He is a cop, and cops always have an agenda. He’s been hanging around, acting suspiciously and putting me on edge for days. Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on.

I hold the phone in my hand, waiting for the pin to drop, and when it does, I put the car in gear and head off. It’s a busy pub in town that I know well. It’s far too early for an alcoholic drink, but it should still be serving breakfast and hot drinks.

He must know something else that can help me, especially if he has contacts within the police. I need to tread carefully here, test the waters and see what bubbles to the surface. I decide to tell him what I know about his father, about Uncle Kevin and his criminal past, although I won’t be revealing the whereabouts of his father’s body. Perhaps he thinks my dad killed my uncle. Perhaps they were involved together. I still have fifty minutes before I’m due to meet Liv to move the corpse, so I need to hurry.

TWENTY-FOUR

MEL

By the time I make it through the front door of the pub, my armpits are damp and I feel as if I’ve just run a personal best in the local park run in sweltering heat. There’s a part of me that is wary of Isaac since he turned on me. It’s warranted, given that I know the whereabouts of his father, but I’ll do anything to keep the secret safe. By the end of the day, it won’t be an issue because the body will have been moved and maybe destroyed if Liv and I can manage it. There’s a large rubbish tip about twenty miles away that could be suitable, or we could attempt to burn the trunk and destroy it that way. I hate having to lie to a family member, but I have to think about the bigger picture.

Isaac is already seated when I enter. He doesn’t get up to greet me, nor does he smile as I approach the table. I slide onto the chair, trying my best to look as if I’m not sweating through my T-shirt under my light jacket.

‘How are you?’ he asks.

‘My best friend has been murdered, and I’m pretty sure whoever did it is after me and Liv too.’ I don’t mean for it to come out so forcefully, but my emotions are frayed, and I’m hanging on to the last of my strength by a single thread. Any minute now it could snap, and I’m not sure what will happen if it does. I’ll either break into a thousand pieces or be arrested for physical assault. There doesn’t seem to be an in-between mode for me right now.

Isaac doesn’t respond in the harsh way I’m expecting. He sighs and leans back in his seat. ‘You want a drink?’

‘Uh, a cappuccino, please. Thanks.’

He gets up and goes to the bar to order. I watch him from the back, trying to work him out. Yesterday, he was practically at my throat and threatening me, and now he’s buying me a coffee. What’s his angle? Does he have an angle?

Perhaps he thinks that by taking a softer approach, he’ll be able to gain more information from me. I have to remember that he may be my cousin, but he’s also a police officer, and they are sneaky, clever and trained in interview and interrogation techniques. I’m so far out of my comfort zone that it would take me a year to get back to any form of safety.

Isaac walks over with a coffee and places it in front of me. He has a strong, black coffee.

‘Thanks,’ I say again. He chucks a couple of packets of sugar at me, which I pick up, rip and add to the coffee, stirring it with the thin wooden stick.

Isaac reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a small hip flask, adding a touch of whatever it is to his coffee. He looks at me, a silent gesture to ask if I want any. My eyebrows rise in judgement, and he notices.

‘What? I’m on leave.’

I shrug and sip my coffee, avoiding eye contact. To be perfectly honest, if I could, I’d probably be on the hard stuff today, too, after everything that’s happened.

‘Okay, listen, before things get heated again, I want you to know that I have found out some information with regards to your father and mine,’ I say.

‘I’m listening.’

I take a breath, steeling myself. ‘I spoke to my mum’s sister, Aunt Eloise, and she told me that back in the early days, your father was in love with my mother.’

Isaac frowns. ‘What? Seriously?’

‘You didn’t know?’

‘No, I mean, not that I can remember. Shit, everything makes so much more sense now.’

‘In what way?’

‘Dad would always joke around and say that there was someone he loved before he met Mum, and Mum used to get proper pissed off because he never told her who it was. They argued a lot, and, I dunno, I just got the feeling from him that he was never completely happy in his marriage to Mum.’

I sit in silence for a moment, taking his words and meaning in. It must have been difficult to see as a child, but perhaps Isaac didn’t fully understand everything. Uncle Kevin would have been good at hiding his feelings. I was lucky to watch my parents as I grew up be happy and in love. At least, that’s what I saw on the outside, but now it seems that Mum could have been in love with someone else the whole time. Everything I thought I knew about my parents is a lie.

‘Aunt Eloise also mentioned something about your dad having a criminal past,’ I say, needing to get my mind off my parents’ troubled marriage.

At this point, Isaac sits straighter in his seat, leaning forwards. ‘What sort of criminal past?’

‘She didn’t know the details, but that, combined with my dad possibly finding out about him being in love with my mother, apparently happened all around the same time. Your dad left, and then my dad died of a sudden heart attack just two weeks later.’

Isaac furrows his brow as he takes a long sip of his coffee. He licks his lips. ‘Are you saying you think someone did something to them? Or that your dad killed mine and then someone offed him as well?’

‘I’m not sure what I’m saying, but clearly our dads were mixed up in something.’

Isaac shakes his head slowly. ‘I always knew my dad wouldn’t have just left me and Mum like that. He loved me. He may not have loved Mum like he loved yours, but he wouldn’t have left his family to cover his own back, I’m sure of it.’

There’s hurt in his eyes. I want to tell him that I know what happened to his father, but I can’t. Not yet. Maybe never. It’s too risky. He’s a cop, and I can’t trust him.

‘I was young at the time,’ says Isaac, ‘but I remember walking in on a conversation between our dads. Things were heated, but they tried to cover it up. I think that’s the last time I saw your dad. Did your mum love my dad, do you think?’

‘I’m not sure. Possibly. Aunt Eloise seems to think she did at one point. Something happened between them when they first met, and then they split up and didn’t talk again until our dads moved to the area a year later.’

‘What do you mean that something happened?’

‘Aunt Eloise said that Mum had bruises and was upset after being out with Uncle Kevin one night. After that, nothing was the same, and they stopped seeing each other.’

‘Wait, you think my dad hurt her? There’s no way that would have happened.’ He’s on the defensive now, standing up for his father. I understand because I’m doing the same for mine, trying to convince myself that he’s not a killer.

‘I don’t know what happened, Isaac. I’m just telling you what I know.’

‘This brings me no closer to actually finding him. If he’s dead, I need to know. I need closure.’

‘I understand.’

‘Do you? Because your dad’s dead, so you have it. Imagine you’re in my position.’

I gulp back a lump in my throat. He’s right. If I didn’t know what had happened to my dad, I’d be asking awkward, difficult questions too. I might have gone about it a different way, but I can’t blame him for wanting to find out the truth. And I’m the one standing in his way. We’re family, yet I’m turning against him to protect my own skin and my father’s reputation.

I hate myself for what I’ve done.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. I check the screen and answer it, holding a finger up to Isaac to signal that I won’t be a minute.

‘Hi, William. Everything okay?’

‘Mel, I’m just letting you know that my parents are taking me back to stay with them. And the kids. I think you’re right about me needing to get away from here for a while. I’ve spoken to the police, and they are happy for me to leave to get the support I need. I don’t want Liv to know where I am.’

His bluntness makes me do a double take because if he’s feeling this way about Liv, then there must be a reason. I’ve had the same thought too, but I was hoping that I was wrong.

‘Why not?’

‘I just don’t trust her. I don’t trust you either, but you’re a good person, Mel. I don’t believe for a second that any of this was your idea.’

‘Thank you, but you need to speak to Liv about this–’

‘I don’t need to do anything other than look after my kids. They keep asking where their mother is, and I can’t … I’m not strong enough … I can’t …’ His voice breaks, and my heart splits in two. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying I don’t erupt into tears in front of Isaac.

‘Keep in touch, William,’ I say.

‘I will. Bye, Mel.’

‘Bye.’

I hang up and return my attention to Isaac. I’m not sure whether he overheard anything William was saying.

‘Earlier, you said you’re being threatened?’ he asks instead.

‘I can’t get into that right now,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘I have to go and meet Liv to talk about our business.’

‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘I could ask you the same question.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

I leave as a cold shiver runs up my spine. What I’m about to do is illegal and risky. I want nothing more than to start over, but that will never happen.

Liv is hiding something from me. I’m hiding something from Isaac, who is also hiding something from me. It’s a vicious circle, and I don’t know how to get off and onto the straight and narrow anymore. Perhaps I’m now doomed to constantly go around in circles, chasing my own tail.

TWENTY-FIVE

MEL

Liv says she’s meeting me at the storage unit, so I’m assuming she’s walking or getting an Uber. I drive there, my head foggy and sleep deprived. My eyes feel like dry crackers, and all I want to do is soak in a hot bath for two hours, maybe with a few candles and a glass of wine, but relaxing and enjoying myself at a time like this feels wrong. I’m not sure if it will ever feel normal or right again.

Will life ever return to the way it was? They say time heals all wounds, but I don’t see how time will help. The more time that passes, the more dangerous everything becomes, the closer to the edge of the drop-off I get. Sooner or later, we’re going to be found out, and we’re going to plummet.

I pull up outside the storage area, waiting by the locked gates for Liv. Only a few days ago, all three of us were here, full of curiosity as to what we’d find inside. If only we knew. If only we’d done things differently. I shouldn’t have listened to Liv.

I check my watch. Why is Liv late? She said she had some personal things to take care of, but I doubt she would have returned to her parents’ house. I’m about to message her when I see her appear at the end of the road. She’s red in the face and looks out of puff. She smiles weakly when she approaches and then gives me a hug.

I hug her back. My eyes threaten to leak with tears, but I manage to hold them off as I pull away from her and wipe my nose with the cuff of my jacket.

‘Do you think the trunk will fit in the back of your car?’ asks Liv.

‘I reckon so, yeah. I tell you what, you unlock the gate, and I’ll drive through and park as close to the unit as possible.’ I reach into my bag, find the storage unit keys and hand them to Liv, who heads straight to the gate.

I drive in and park at the end of the row. Our unit sits at the end, so we will have to carry the trunk a little way, but between the two of us, I’m sure we’ll be able to manage it. Liv leads the way down the row past other storage units, which I’m sure don’t contain dead family members. We’re breaking the law. Leaving a body where it is and not saying anything about it is bad enough, but moving a body and not saying anything is something people get put in prison for.

This makes me shudder, and when we get to unit seventeen, I reach out and grab Liv before she can open the padlock. ‘Liv, it’s not too late. We can hand ourselves in and tell the police everything. After this, there’s no going back. Ever.’ My body shivers, like it knows what I’m doing is wrong.

Liv is silent and still for a moment, contemplating my words. She looks like she has a lot going on in her head. Her eyes can’t focus on anything. Her shoulders are high and tense, but the next words out of her mouth make goosebumps prickle across my skin.

‘What’s done is done.’

I want to fight back, but what’s the point? If we find the rest of the money, then we can pay whoever is threatening us, get rid of the body, and no one will be any wiser. It was probably the loan shark who killed Jennie, and the police will get them eventually. Then, Liv and I can try to piece together what’s left of our business and lives. I know Liv will want to keep the money, but it’s impossible.

Having a million pounds can’t guarantee our safety.

Liv bends and unlocks the padlock; then we lift the door together. It’s stiff and loud, but when it reaches halfway, it rolls the rest of the way up on its own.

Liv freezes. ‘What the fuck?’

I peer into the darkness beyond, but the outside light is enough to show that the storage unit is completely empty.

I walk in, turning around three times, staring at the empty space like I’m expecting everything to magically materialise out of thin air. My mouth and tongue won’t form any words. I can’t even think of anything to say other than, ‘Where is everything?’

I feel stupid as soon as I’ve said it, but it’s ridiculous. I’ve had the keys in my bag the whole time. The padlock wasn’t busted. Who the hell has broken in and taken all the stuff, including the trunk? Do they know what’s in it? Do they realise the significance of what they’ve done? If they’re petty thieves, then they’re going to be in for one hell of a shock when they open it.

‘I don’t understand,’ I say.

‘Maybe your dad had another key made?’ says Liv, staring around at the space.

‘But who would have it?’ I shriek. The hysteria sets in as my heart rate climbs higher and higher. Panic squeezes my throat and claws at my chest. ‘Oh, God, oh, God …’

Liv steps towards me. ‘Mel, just calm down, okay? Apart from the money being gone, our problems are solved as far as the body is concerned.’

‘How can you even say that? Of course our problems aren’t solved. We now have a whole brand-new set of problems because someone out there has the body and the money and knows we didn’t tell the police about it. What if they blackmail us? Now we have nothing to leverage. Nothing. We’re screwed, Liv. Utterly and completely fucking screwed. How can you be so calm right now?’

I sink to the floor, a sharp stone digging into my left kneecap.

Liv doesn’t say a word.

And then, something clicks into place inside my head. Like a light switch.

I look up at Liv, who is glancing outside. Her left leg is twitching, and she’s fiddling with her fingernails, eyes darting from side to side.

‘You did this, didn’t you?’ I ask, my voice deadpan.

Liv’s eyes look everywhere but at me, and it’s all I can do not to jump to my feet, grab her by her top and shake her. ‘What the fuck, Liv!’

Silence.

‘Answer me! Where is the body? Where’s all the stuff? And more importantly, why did you move it without telling me? We were going to move it anyway. I don’t understand.’

Liv lowers her eyes to the floor. She’s ashamed. She can’t look at me, but I want her to. I need her to. I have to understand why she’s done this to me. To us.

‘How did you even get the door and the lock open? The keys were in my bag. Did you make a copy?’

Liv sighs and finally speaks, keeping her voice low, almost a whisper. ‘No, I took them and returned them.’

‘When did you …?’ I pause, and another puzzle piece slips into place. ‘You hugged me. At the gates, just now. You must have taken them before that and returned them to my bag as you hugged me. That’s low, Liv, even for you.’

Her eyes flash, nostrils flare. ‘Even for me? What the hell does that mean?’

Fury boils up from inside. ‘It means that you’ve been keeping stuff from me, and I don’t trust you.’

‘Well, I don’t trust you either. That’s why I emptied the storage unit.’

‘You don’t trust me?’ I spit, on the verge of complete and utter eruption.

Liv’s lips curve into a smile, but it’s not a happy one.

‘I thought we were in this together, Liv,’ I say, my voice cracking and breaking at the end.

‘I have to look after myself, Mel. No one else will. Not even you. I need the money.’

‘What, so you’ve found it?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Then what are you saying?’

‘I’m saying that this is where we part ways, Mel.’

‘Wait, you can’t be serious? After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through, you’re just cutting me out?’

Liv looks away from me. ‘I’ll see you around, Mel.’ Then she walks out of the storage unit, leaving on my knees, completely broken and at her mercy.

TWENTY-SIX

MEL

By the time I summon the energy to get to my feet, stumble out of the unit and back to my car, Liv is nowhere to be seen. I half expect her to have somehow stolen my car and driven off with it. Nothing she does would surprise me now. She’s gone too far this time.

I’m at a loss of what to do, where to go from here. It feels as if she’s taken away my power. Her betrayal is something that hurts deep down inside, like a fire in my heart. She admitted it herself. It’s always been about the money. She’s only doing it for her, to make her life better. I’m beyond furious. I’m standing here with no idea what to do or how to proceed with my life, at a crossroads, and none of the directions make any sense or are straightforward.

Jennie is gone, and my heart is empty without her. Usually, when Liv upsets one of us, we’d confide in the other, and then we’d work everything out, and our friendship would go back to normal, but without Jennie, I’m treading water by myself. My muscles are screaming at me and feel disconnected from my body and mind.

I check my phone and immediately wish I hadn’t. Hundreds of Facebook, Instagram and TikTok notifications flash at me. My inbox has fifty-two emails, and my WhatsApp has over thirty messages, mostly from unknown numbers.

Something’s happened.

I don’t know what to look at first, but as soon as Facebook opens, I understand. The news of Jennie’s murder has gone viral, and my face is everywhere, connected to it.

Headlines pop out at me, some kind and understanding, but most are scathing and accusatory. My face burns as I read, but I can only cope with looking for less than a minute before I put my phone away just as another call comes through from an unknown number.

Standing out in the open, I feel exposed, like someone could take aim and attack at any moment, so I jump in my car and drive to my mum’s house. It’s not my home, but it’s the only place where I’m likely to find the answers I need.

As soon as I enter, I slam and lock the door behind me, blocking out the noise and chaos of the world. If the police need to speak to me, then they know where I live.

I enter the living area, but the mess and piles of boxes, furniture and litter rub me up the wrong way. This isn’t a place of calm. This is a place of even more chaos, and my mind can’t handle it. It’s all just too much. Too. Much. The way everything is mixed up, no order to anything, makes my skin crawl.

A primal, angry scream erupts from my throat as I storm into the kitchen and find the black bin bags in the cupboard beneath the sink. I rip one off the roll, accidentally tearing it. It makes me scream again, frustration clawing at my insides.

I rip another off the roll and flap it open, then return to the living room, stomping around like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I grab the nearest box, open it and start stuffing everything inside the plastic bag. When it’s full, I repeat the process. Again. And again.

The bags start piling up by the back door. Higher and higher, until one topples, sending the rest of them crashing to the floor.

I don’t care. They can stay there.

My adrenaline and anger fuel me for the next twenty minutes. The recycling and normal bins outside are already full, so I pile up the bags and recycling next to them, hoping the bin men will be generous and take everything away. I need it out of my life. The stress it’s causing me is tipping me over the edge, although it’s safe to say that I fell off days ago.

The living room looks much clearer. Only the furniture is left, most of which I can save and restore, but now that my business is in tatters, on the verge of exploding in a giant ball of flames, I don’t feel the connection and enthusiasm I once had. The furniture is there to be saved, but I’m not sure I’m the one who’s going to be able to save it. What about me? Who’s going to save me?

There’s one box left in the corner that’s been hidden by the piles of rubbish and electronic equipment, so I pull it towards me and open the lid, peering inside.

Mum’s old diaries are stacked on top of each other.

I remember her writing in them every day, right up until two years ago when she started forgetting about them. It was a sad day when that happened. She always refused to throw them out despite never reading them again.

I pick one up. They aren’t in order. There are dozens of them, all in different sizes and shapes. Mostly just plan diaries. Some are a week to a page, while others are a day to a page, but those are from her earlier years. For the first time since I started throwing things out, I pause and take my time to look through the possessions that my mum held dear.

I open one from 2001 and read a few sentences, smiling at her thoughts. It’s lovely to see her handwriting. Nowadays, it’s so rare to see proper handwriting other than maybe a signature on a page. As I read, a spark of an idea forms, giving me a jolt of energy that I surely need.

I throw the diary in my hand aside and rummage through the rest of the box, searching for the diary from 1984. If it’s here, it could answer everything. My breath hitches in my throat as I spy it nestled right at the bottom. It’s one of the tattier books. I can’t remember when Mum said she first started keeping diaries, but I even see one from 1979. I’m fascinated to know what she was like then, and what she got up to, but my curiosity will have to wait because there’s only one diary I need to read right now, and it’s in my hand.

My fingers shake as I turn the pages towards the summer months.

1984 DIARY

5th July 1984

I can’t believe we’re finally doing it! Eloise and I are travelling around the UK coastline. Today, we’re getting the train from Newquay to Carbis Bay. It’s going to take roughly three hours, and we have to change trains twice: once in Par, and then again in St Erth to get a main line, followed by the scenic branch train to Carbis Bay, where Eloise and I are staying for a week to explore the area.

It’s very hot on the trains, and Eloise is complaining already that her hair is sticking to her face. We finally made it! Oh, my goodness. It’s so beautiful. I can’t quite get over how glorious the weather is and the spectacular views we saw from the train window as we trundled along.

We finally found our accommodation cabin for the week. It’s basic, but it has everything we need, and it’s right on the coast. I can open the back doors and step straight out onto the beach. I couldn’t ask for a better location, and I’m so happy to spend this time with my sister.

6th July 1984

I woke up this morning at seven to the smell of salt and the squawking of seagulls. It’s the most wonderful natural alarm clock in the world. Eloise is still snoring. We’re sharing a bed, but I’m going to let her sleep as much as she needs. The travelling takes it out of her more than it does me. I live for adventure and can’t wait to explore the area.

I’m outside on the deck, listening to the crashing of the waves and the noise of the British seaside. How lucky am I? To experience this now, in my late twenties, before family and children come along, which they will do, I’m sure of it. I should have done this sooner, but I suppose there’s no rush. I’ve been in love before, thought I’d met ‘the one’ back in my early twenties, but it never worked out.

Eloise finally wakes up, and I drag her out for our first walk along the beach. We grab ice cream and walk through the shallow waves. Eloise loses her balance while trying to stop a hungry seagull from going after her ice cream and lands in the water, so we have to go back for her to change into dry clothes.

We’ve also been invited to a BBQ on the beach with a fire and everything. I’m excited to meet some people my own age. Eloise says she wants to get drunk, so I’ll probably end up looking after her, but that’s okay.

7th July 1984

Oh, my goodness. Something exciting and magical happened last night. Eloise and I went to the BBQ. There was a roaring fire, and we were welcomed by everyone there. Eloise and I were having fun and drinking Woo Woos, which were very strong, colourful cocktails. They were yummy!

We met two men called Malcolm and Kevin. They were watching us from the other side of the fire for a long time. I immediately noticed how attractive they were, and it took them a long time to come over, but eventually they did and asked if they could join us.

Kevin is the dreamiest man I think I’ve ever met. He is so polite and kind and has floppy hair that makes him look dangerous, but honestly, he’s the sweetest man. Malcolm is lovely too, and he has a lot of tattoos, but he doesn’t seem that interested in Eloise, but that’s okay because she said she’s not here to meet anyone. In fact, I don’t like to pry into my sister’s business, but I’ve been getting the feeling from her lately that she’s more into women than she is men. I’m not sure how to bring it up, to be honest. I just want her to be happy.

8th July 1984

Kevin invited me on a coastal walk today, so I went with him. Eloise didn’t approve of me going off with him by myself, so she and Malcolm tagged along too. I don’t think either of them minded, and they found that they had a lot in common because they both enjoy watching football. I can’t believe how quickly I’ve fallen for Kevin. I thought things like this only happened in romance movies or books.

Kevin kissed me! On top of a cliff, overlooking the sea. It was the most romantic moment of my whole life, and now I can’t stop smiling.

9th July 1984

I’m in love. I have to be. There’s no other way to describe it. Three days ago, I didn’t know this man, and now he’s taken over my whole world. I want to run away with him. I want to have his children. I’m already planning it in my head. This isn’t normal, is it? What is it about him that draws me in, makes me want so much more? I can’t explain it, but right now, I don’t want to explain it. I just want to live in the moment.

10th July 1984

I know I’m here to spend time with Eloise, but all I want to do is be with Kevin. I’m not quite sure if he lives here or is just visiting like I am. He doesn’t talk about his life much. Whenever I do ask him, he changes the subject or avoids eye contact. Is he ashamed of something?

Earlier, we were all hanging out, and Kevin said something that made me uncomfortable. He said that he’s a free spirit and he’ll do anything to be wealthy. He keeps telling me that he’ll do anything to make me happy, talking as if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, which is what I want, but it’s the way he talks about money, like it’s the only important thing in life, that is making me uncomfortable. Should I ask him about it?

I can’t believe that Eloise and I leave for the next stage of our trip in two days’ time. I don’t want to leave Kevin. He says he and Malcolm will be going home too, which answers my question as to whether he lives around here.

Kevin and I are going for a walk later at sunset. I’ve got a fluttering in my stomach. I can’t wait to see him, but I need to bring up the whole money thing. Also, what happens now? Are we going to stay in contact? I’ve only known him a few days, but I already can’t imagine a future without him in it.

11th July 1984

I can barely see the page as I write this. I can’t stop crying. I’m not even sure I want to write these words because if I write them, then it means they are true. Last night was truly the most wonderful of my life and also the worst.

Kevin told me that he loved me. And I said it back. He said he wanted me to be his girlfriend, but I needed to be patient and wait for him. He said he had big plans to make our life together the best it could be. I didn’t have to worry about anything. Everything was going to be sorted, and I would never need to get a job or anything. But he said I had to wait for a year.

It all sounded wonderful, but there was a niggling in the pit of my stomach, so I brought up the whole money thing and why I needed to wait a year for our life to start. I asked him how he was going to pay for our life and future. He didn’t have a job, not that he’d told me.

He told me that he trusted me. He loved me. And then he told me that he was going to prison for ten months. I didn’t believe it at first, thought he was joking, but he was serious. I listened as he explained that he had been caught in a money heist gone wrong. But that once he was out of prison, he would learn from his mistakes and do things differently.

Kevin is a criminal.

12th July 1984

Eloise saw the bruises and scratches on my face and my dirty dress. After I ran away from Kevin, not knowing what to do after he revealed he was a criminal, I fell down a small cliff and landed badly. I managed to make it back to the cabin, and Eloise asked me about the injuries. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t say anything because my heart is broken.

I have to end things with Kevin. I can’t be with him, knowing that he’s a criminal and intends to steal more money once he’s out of prison. I can’t live my life, knowing that I’m using stolen money. It’s not right, but I love him too much to tell the police about what he intends to do. He’s going to land up in prison again. I can’t do it to myself. I can’t, even if it’s killing me inside to leave him behind. Does his brother know about this? I’m reluctant to tell him or ask him about it.

Eloise and I are leaving today to continue our journey. I have to say goodbye to Kevin. I may never see him again. Why couldn’t he be a decent man? I’m forced now to choose between my head and my heart.

My head is telling me that he’s trouble, dangerous, and I’m better off never knowing him, but my heart is telling me that I love him, and being without him is going to be the single hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.

TWENTY-SEVEN

MEL

I sit back on my heels and let out a long breath, then breathe in deeply for the first time since I started reading. I haven’t taken a full, proper breath since my eyes started soaking up the words at lightning speed.

This explains what happened on the night that Aunt Eloise spoke about, the night my mum came back to the cabin with scratches and bruises, wearing a dirty dress. Nothing physical happened with Uncle Kevin. She fell because she was running away from him after he revealed his true nature, that he was a criminal and was going to prison for ten months and had plans to steal more money upon release.

What the hell was he thinking?

I want to judge Mum for falling in love with a bad boy, but she didn’t know that when she first met him, did she? Ultimately, she made the right choice and decided to break things off with him, but then a year later, he and his brother turned up where Mum and Eloise lived, and Mum got together with Dad. How must Kevin have felt to see his brother get the girl he loved first? Did Dad and Uncle Kevin track Mum down? Was it Uncle Kevin’s plan to woo her for a second time, to start things up again?

Reading Mum’s diary has given me a headache. I want to read more of them, but I need a break first. I make a cup of tea to clear my head and head upstairs to Dad’s office. The door is still broken, so I push it open and step inside.

I feel like I don’t know my father at all. I don’t know Mum either. I thought I did, but she’s been harbouring this secret for a long time. She knew about Uncle Kevin’s criminal past way before Dad did. It sounds like he had no idea about his brother’s antics, but then, wouldn’t he have known Uncle Kevin was going to prison back then? Perhaps he did know about that heist, the one where he was caught, but not the ones after that, until much later. Perhaps Uncle Kevin continued his criminal lifestyle because he saw Mum happy with Dad, and then eventually started a family of his own, never quite forgetting about Mum.

I go to sit down on the chair again, but I trip over some newspaper clippings, the ones I pushed to the floor the last time I was in here. I bend down and scoop them up, my eyes wandering over the papers. A headline jumps out at me, and this time, it makes a lot more sense.

1.2 million pounds stolen in security van heist

I check the date. It’s from the autumn of 2011.

I sit bolt upright, accidentally knocking the rest of the papers off the desk as I clutch the clipping in both hands. This is it. This is proof that the one point two million pounds does exist. When I saw the headline previously, it didn’t even cross my mind that this heist could be related to the money in the storage unit. It was only one hundred grand, but the headline of 1.2 million is too much of a coincidence to not be related.

Ever since that email landed in my inbox, I’ve been wondering whether the money was even real, but this proves that it is. My dad must have been collecting evidence against Uncle Kevin, and this is what he confronted him with.

I sit for a long time in Dad’s office. It’s late by the time I head back downstairs to make some food, but I’m not hungry. I end up doing some plain toast, eating it quickly and returning to the pile of diaries, not satisfied that I’ve discovered everything there is to find.

The need to understand more about Mum and Dad’s relationship pulls me in to pick up the diary from 1989, the year before Mary and I were born. I also find the one from 2011 to read afterwards, hoping there may be something inside relating to the time that Uncle Kevin was killed.

I take them and read them in bed.

1989 DIARY

16th August 1989

Today, I met Jackie for coffee at our usual spot, and I had a slice of carrot cake. Jackie had a strong black coffee, but I had a cup of tea. She told me that she had some gossip for me! I do enjoy a bit of gossip. Apparently, she saw a young man entering her neighbour’s house at 11 in the morning, and he didn’t leave until almost 3. Her neighbour is a married woman of our age, and she doesn’t have any children. The man didn’t have any equipment with him either, so was unlikely to be an engineer or anything like that. Jackie is convinced her neighbour is having an affair with a younger man. How scandalous! Halfway through eating my carrot cake, I got a bit of a stomach ache, so I had to leave it. I never leave cake! Such a waste.

Oh dear. I don’t think I’m very well. I don’t like feeling under the weather, but that carrot cake really hasn’t settled right.

17th August 1989

KB. 11 a.m.

This morning, I had to cancel my rendezvous with KB and go back to bed. I was disappointed about cancelling, but since I’m not feeling my best, I’m hardly ready for what we usually get up to. I’m never usually one to lie around and do nothing, but Malcolm said I looked very pale and suggested I take it easy today, so I am. I hope I feel better tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day.

20th August 1989

After the past two days, I’ve had to make an appointment to see the doctor. I can’t keep anything down lately. I haven’t even felt like writing in my diary, and it’s always been one of those things I enjoy doing at the end of each day before bed, but I’ve been exhausted and unable to keep my eyes open past eight.

21st August 1989

Poor Malcolm. He’s trying to make me feel better, but everything he does or gives me makes me nauseous. I’ve also noticed that I’m late for my period, which may explain why I’ve been feeling so awful … Could it be? I have a doctor’s appointment later today. I could just buy a pregnancy test, but I don’t want to assume anything.

Yes. The doctor has confirmed it! I’m pregnant!!!!!!!!

I can’t quite put into words how happy I am right now. I can’t believe it. I’m shaking. He asked me when my last period was. I had to do some quick maths, but he said according to the dates, I am six weeks pregnant. There’s just one question. Six weeks ago, Malcolm was away for his work, travelling for the whole month. I don’t have time to waste. I hate myself for doing this to Malcolm, but it’s for the best. Tonight, when he gets home from work, I’ll drag him to the bedroom. He’ll love it. The dates will be tight, but I don’t have another choice. I can’t tell him the truth. That this baby is KB’s.

Oh, God …

Why didn’t I think about this before? I need to end this now. I knew it was a mistake, but I couldn’t help myself. Why am I like this? Why do I do this to myself? KB is wrong for me. He always has been, and yet, I’m drawn to him. And now this has happened, and I have to lie to my husband for the rest of our lives.

22nd August 1989

Well, last night worked a treat. It was a wonderful night, and Malcolm and I reconnected in a physical way, but the whole time I kept thinking about KB. It can’t continue. I’ve made my decision. I have to break it off, but I can’t tell KB the truth. If the truth comes out, then everything I’ve worked for will be over just because of my own weakness and mistakes. I love Malcolm. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve what I’ve done to him. KB is just an unattainable dream. I’ve been foolish to think I could get away with it. It ends now.

2011 DIARY

6th November 2011

The rain was awful today! The garden is a muddy mess, and every time I step foot outside the door, I get drenched whether I wear a jacket or not.

Mary is coming home tomorrow. I’m so excited to see her. She’s been a little distant lately, but I try not to pry into the girls’ lives. I miss them both terribly. Melanie is doing great at university, and she promises to come home soon for a visit.

7th November 2011

My hands are shaking so badly, I can barely put pen to paper …

I overheard Malcolm and Kevin arguing in the office upstairs when I came home from my aerobics class. I wanted to head up to take a shower, but their raised voices stopped me in my tracks, and I leaned closer to the door to …

TWENTY-EIGHT

MEL

I turn the next page, but the writing finishes there, mid-sentence. A whole page has been ripped out of the diary. Not only that, but Mum doesn’t write again in the diary for the rest of the year.

Whatever my mum heard on the other side of the door, whatever happened next, has been torn out and destroyed. Did Mum do this on purpose? She must have written something and then realised it was too dangerous to keep in her diary.

I’m now faced with the biggest curveball of them all.

What the hell do I do now that I know Uncle Kevin was my biological father? There’s nothing I can do because he’s dead, so is Dad … who is actually my uncle. It feels like the biggest anticlimax ever because the fallout of this means nothing and won’t cause anyone’s life to change because everyone whom it concerns, other than me and Mary, is gone. I want to tell someone, but who?

The diaries I’m reading are spread out around me on the bed. I clutch the diary I’m holding against my chest. The main issue and shock of this is that Mum lied to all of us. She must have overheard the brothers talking about the money, which means she knew about it this whole time. Did she know about the storage unit too? Mum always said she didn’t care about money, didn’t need it. She said it changes people, turns them into greedy monsters.

The more I think about everything, the more my mind spirals with questions. Was Mum truly afraid of Dad and what he’d do if he found out that she’d kept a secret all her adult life? Was Dad the enemy in all of this? Did Uncle Kevin know the whole time about us, or did he only find out later down the line, around fifteen years ago? Perhaps that’s why he kept his distance from the family.

There’s so much I don’t know, but now at least Dad’s falling-out with Kevin makes sense, but I’m no closer to discovering how he ended up dead and stuffed into a trunk and locked inside a storage unit, a unit that both my parents knew about.

Still reeling, I turn off the light and try to sleep, but I toss and turn all night as the weight of this new information presses down upon me like a sleep demon, sucking the air right out of my lungs.

TWENTY-NINE

LIV

There’s no time to feel bad or guilty for what I’ve done to Mel. She has no idea that I’m actually doing this for her own good. There’s no point in trying to explain because she always dismisses me like my opinion means nothing. She doesn’t even want or need the money. This whole time she’s been teetering on the edge of blabbing to the police, so I took her power away. It was the only way to stop her. There’s not a chance in hell she would have gone through with moving and destroying the body. She would have chickened out at some point, things would have got messy, and I’d have been left to deal with the aftermath. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

It’s better this way. She’s not liable for anything other than lying to the police, but once I destroy everything, then there won’t ever be a body to find.

No body. No crime.

I didn’t have time to search the van earlier when I cleared out the unit, but if the money is there, then I’ll find it, take it, change my name and go someplace where no one will ever find me. Mel doesn’t want me here anymore. Jennie was always the better friend to her. She’s better off without me.

I walk fast, head down, straight to the waiting moving van that’s parked out of sight down a small road only four hundred metres from the entrance to the storage unit. I’d only managed to drive it out of sight before Mel rounded the corner. She would have driven straight past it and not noticed it; then I walked to the gates, hugged her and slipped the keys back into her bag. I didn’t expect her to guess it was me so quickly. I suppose I’m not as good a liar as I thought, but it doesn’t matter that she knows. What’s done is done. She would have figured it out sooner or later.

As soon as I reach the van, I beep it open with the keys in my pocket. I still don’t have time to search the back. I need a place to lie low for a while.

It takes two attempts to get the van started. I rented it using my father’s name and details and told the guy at the desk that I was picking it up for him. I drive out of town, searching for a secluded lay-by or car park where I can keep it overnight.

It’s getting late, and since I have nowhere to stay now that Mel and I have parted ways, I’ve got no choice but to spend the night in the back of the van.

Thankfully, there’s an electronic lift, so the heavier items could be loaded, and it came with a sack truck too. I made sure I thought of everything because moving the trunk was hard. Its solid wooden frame was heavy enough on its own, let alone with a decomposed corpse inside, although I’m assuming it would have lost weight over the fifteen years it’s been locked inside.

I jump into the back and start my search. I’m not going anywhere until I find the money, but I need to work fast. There’s no danger of Mel finding me, but I don’t want to be noticed by anyone passing by either, in case they remember me.

The large chest of drawers comes up empty, as does the suitcase, which I check again. One point one million in cash is a lot to hide. It must be in here somewhere. It must, but the light outside is fading.

There’s no chance of seeing anything properly now, and the back of the van has no light source.

It’s quiet outside. The car park I’ve chosen is down a small side road. Only one or two cars pass every half an hour or so. Stumbling around in the dark, I make my way to the front seat and attempt to get comfortable. I set an alarm for seven in the morning. I don’t like sitting around, but perhaps it’s better this way. No one knows where I am. I need to be smart and not make any more rash decisions. Tomorrow morning, in the light, I will search the van.

I close my eyes and am surprised to see that when I open them again, it’s light outside. I slept well considering the uncomfortable position I spent the night in. My first thought is that I need to find the money and make a move, keep changing my location, find a place to get rid of the body, then dump the van. I force my mind to slow down and take things one step at a time. My stomach grumbles, but I don’t even have a stray energy bar in my purse. There’s no water to quench my thirst either, and my teeth feel fuzzy from not brushing them.

My body creaks and groans as I jump down from the cab onto solid ground. I ride the lift to the top and open the back doors.

Right. Time to find that money.

‘Fancy seeing you here.’

I spin around at the sound of Isaac’s deep voice to see him standing below me at the back of the van, looking up. His hands are on his hips, and he’s got a smirk on his face like he’s just caught me in the act of doing something naughty. Technically, he has.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, immediately on the defensive. Has he been watching the van all night? There’s no chance he would have stumbled across me.

‘Moving, are you?’ he asks, ignoring my question.

The ease with which we conversed the night we got drunk and slept together is gone, replaced with a harsh, interrogation-style conversation where both of us are out to get something we want.

‘Just, uh … moving some stuff, yeah.’

I wish I were better at thinking on the spot.

Isaac’s eyes travel around the inside of the van, clocking the trunk and then the chest of drawers. ‘Looks old, this stuff.’

‘Yeah, I guess. Most of it’s junk.’

‘Need any help?’

‘No. Isaac, I don’t need help. Why are you here? Did you follow me?’

‘No, actually, I followed Mel, and then I followed you. Thought I’d let you sleep for a bit. I came back super early.’

‘Were you watching us yesterday?’

Shit. Did he overhear us talking?

My heart rate doubles as I realise what this could mean. He could have heard everything.

‘I may have been, yes. I had a chat with Mel yesterday too. It seems you both know a lot more than you’re letting on. I’m sorry about your friend, by the way. Jennie, wasn’t it?’

My skin bristles at the mention of her name. Not only that, but the way he says it, like he knows how much power he has over me right now, baiting me to say the wrong thing or to be caught in a lie.

‘What did Mel tell you?’ I ask, fighting against the shakiness in my voice.

‘She told me that my father and her father had a disagreement fifteen years ago, but you know what I think?’

‘Enlighten me.’ At this point, I step away from the chest of drawers and stand in front of the trunk with my arms folded, looking down at him. I may have the higher ground, but he’s got me cornered, and he knows it.

‘I think that her dad killed mine and hid his body somewhere.’

I give him my best surprised impression, but I’ve never been good at acting. If he notices, he doesn’t let on as he continues to speak. ‘I have no proof, of course, but I reckon I’m close to the truth. What do you think, Liv?’

I decide to join him on his level, to draw his eye away from the inside of the van. If he happens to recognise anything of his father’s, then it’s all over. I ride the tailgate down to ground level and face Isaac.

‘I’m afraid you’re clutching at straws.’

‘Am I?’

‘You’re a cop, aren’t you? Why don’t you speak to your cop buddies about this, huh?’

Isaac doesn’t respond, which starts my senses tingling. Perhaps he’s hiding something regarding his status with the police force, and he doesn’t have as much power as he likes to think he does. It wouldn’t be the first time a man has tried to talk himself into believing he has power over me.

It’s why I prefer female partners. They don’t think they’re better than me.

‘Where’s the body, Liv?’

‘Wow, that’s presumptuous,’ I say with a scoff. Inside, I’m screaming. ‘You’ve jumped straight from saying that you think Mel’s dad killed yours to accusing me of knowing where the body is.’

Isaac points a stiff finger at me. ‘Because I know you’re hiding something. I’ve been a cop a long time. I can practically smell the lies coming off you.’

‘A long time? Hardly. You’re in your early twenties. You’re basically a child.’

Isaac’s eyes narrow, and I know I’ve hit a sore spot, but at this point I’m beyond caring about whether or not I’ve bruised his precious ego.

‘I’m not going to ask again, Liv.’

‘Good, because I’m not going to repeat my answer.’

His eyes travel to the inside of the van. He blinks several times. I gulp back a solid lump in my throat as his eyes flicker back to me, and a slow smirk appears on his face. ‘There’s more than just old furniture in the back of this van, isn’t there? That’s why you’re moving it. What’s happened, Liv? Mel got you doing her dirty work?’ He steps closer to me, too close.

‘Isaac, I suggest you back out of my personal space right now.’

‘Or what? You realise I could get a warrant to search this van as easy as snapping my fingers?’

I have no idea if that’s true, but it’s enough to send my pulse skyrocketing.

‘What am I going to find in the back of this van?’ he asks, his voice level and controlled. He’s done this before and is used to bullying people into making them feel helpless and weak.

‘I’m warning you, Isaac–’

‘No, I’m warning you, Liv. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, then you’ll end up like …’ He stops, his voice faltering for the first time, but it’s enough for me to notice.

‘End up like who? Jen?’

He steps back one pace. His eyes are wide.

‘Oh, fuck! Did you kill her?’ Now it’s my turn to go on the offensive. I step closer to him as he backs off, away from the van. I’ve got him. I’ve fucking got him!

‘What?’ he says. ‘No, of course I didn’t fucking kill her. Who do you think I am?’

‘I think you did. I think you killed her, and now you’re trying to bully me.’ My voice shakes as I realise that my anger is fighting against my fear of this man. If he killed Jen, then he’s dangerous, and I’m baiting him. ‘Maybe you’re the one who’s been threatening us too. Maybe it’s always been you.’ I talk fast, my thoughts spilling out of my brain and into my mouth as fast as they enter. I don’t have time to think about what I’m saying.

Isaac’s face drops; then his jaw clenches.

I’ve pushed him too far.

Before I can react, he lunges at me, attempting to slam a hand over my mouth to shut me up. ‘Keep your mouth shut!’ he shouts.

He shoves me backwards against the tailgate, and the metal rams into my back. Pain explodes through my body, but I don’t have time to focus on it. I shove him hard, which knocks him backwards enough for me to knee him in the groin. He doubles over, letting out a shout of anguish, but I don’t stop there. I shove him again, determined to get him on the ground so I have enough time to leg it to the driver’s side door, fling it open, get in and drive away.

But he’s already off balance, so he staggers sideways into the tailgate and, because he’s bent over, the side of his head slams into the edge of the metal.

He collapses to the ground, bleeding from the side of his head.

Oh, God …

What have I done?

I’ve attacked a police officer and … No, he attacked me first. It was self-defence. It’s his fault. I was merely defending myself.

But I’ve still done a bad thing. He knows too much. He knows everything.

Isaac is slumped over the tailgate, so I push him the rest of the way onto it, then ride it to the top. The car park is still empty of any cars, so I roll him off the tailgate and into the back of the van.

I put everything in place, jump down and lock the doors.

Now what?

THIRTY

MEL

I wake early, get up and take a long shower. I have no idea what to do today because what is there to do? My career is over. My friends are gone. Now, all I have left is the memory of what I’ve done. Not to mention the debt looming over my head. The house sale will take months, if not over a year to complete. I have nothing to fall back on.

I step out of the shower, feeling numb, and wrap a towel around my body, tucking it in at my chest, pulling it tight before heading back to my bedroom. My phone lights up as I move close to it, signalling that I have missed several calls from Liv.

I ignore them.

There’s nothing she can possibly say to make me forgive her for what she’s done. Deliberately going behind my back and emptying that storage unit is the most reckless, stupid thing she could possibly do. There’s no going back for her. She’s made her own bed, so she can bloody well lie in it.

She calls again.

I ignore it as I get dressed. But then she sends a text, which I read.

I’ve fucked up …

Yeah, no shit.

She’s fucked up big time, and now she has the audacity to call me and ask for help? I don’t think so. I continue to ignore her calls, which come one after the other until I can’t stand them anymore. I go to switch off my phone, but she’s sent a bunch of other messages too.

Mel, please answer. I need your help. After you left, Isaac came and

I don’t read any more. I call her straight back. Seeing his name causes a jolt of anxiety through my veins. She answers after the first ring.

‘Isaac was there?’ I ask as soon as the call connects. ‘What did he want?’

‘Yes, Mel, he’s inside!’

‘Inside … inside what?’

‘The van! I … I parked the moving van around the corner from the storage unit so you wouldn’t see, and I went there after you left and then slept in it overnight, and … he was there, Mel. He heard everything. He knows.’

An icy tingle makes its way across the back of my neck.

This is very bad. Quite possibly the worst thing that could happen, but Liv has made her choice.

‘I’m done, Liv,’ I say. ‘You decided to go behind my back, so you can deal with this yourself.’

Liv is sobbing on the other end of the phone, barely able to form words. ‘Mel, p-p-please. I’m begging you. I fucked up. I’m s-s-sorry. Please.’ It’s difficult to understand what she’s saying.

I close my eyes, willing my brain to block out the horrendous sound of her crying, but it’s impossible. She’s my friend. My best friend. The only one I have left. Liv is a difficult person to understand and even like sometimes, but I understand her the best. She has no one else. Her parents have deserted her, and Jennie is gone. We’re all each other has left. Whether I like it or not, Liv and I are bonded by this. Forever.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Where are you?’

Liv tells me, and I hang up without giving her a response. I want her to know that I’m pissed off at her and always will be until the end of time. God only knows what’s going to happen, but this is literally the end of the road now, and somehow, I need to make her see that.

When I find the car park and pull up behind the van, I see Liv leaning against the back of it. Luckily, no one is around this early in the morning, but this is a popular dog-walking area, so I expect the masses to arrive soon. Liv’s face is red, and her eyes are puffy. I get out and slam my car door.

‘Tell me again what happened,’ I say.

Liv pushes herself away from the van and stands up straight. ‘Isaac arrived this morning while I was inside looking for the money. He followed me here last night after following you to the storage unit.’

‘Did you find it? The money?’

‘No, I hadn’t finished checking everything when he turned up. He asked questions, one thing led to another, and he said that he knew your father killed his, and … I don’t know how he knew or whether it was a lucky guess, but he put two and two together and realised the body was in the van. I said some things he didn’t like, and he attacked me. I shoved him hard, and he hit his head on the metal tailgate. I swear to God it was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt him, and then I … then I put him in the back.’ Liv looks sideways up at the double doors.

‘You’ve locked a police officer inside a van with the dead body of his father inside too?’ I ask, deadpan.

Liv nods. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Liv, this is serious. It’s always been serious, but this … this is too far. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I know you’re trying to make things better, but all you’re doing is making things ten times worse. You’re not thinking clearly at all!’ I scream the last bit and realise my voice is too loud, so I lower it as I continue, glaring at her. ‘Liv, we have to let him out and hand ourselves in, explain everything as best we can. It’s gone too far now, do you understand? We have to end it before someone else gets hurt.’

Liv shakes her head. ‘No, Mel, we can do this. We’re so close. Everything that is holding us back, everything that could get us in trouble, is in the back of this van. All we need to do is make it … disappear.’

‘Disappear? Are you even listening to yourself? Liv, you’re crazy!’

‘I’m not! You’re just so blinded by the fact that you want to do the right thing that you’re not seeing the bigger picture here.’

‘So you admit that what you’re doing is wrong, that we should have told the police about the money and the body right at the start?’

‘No, I still stand by our decision because it was our decision, Mel. It wasn’t only mine. You can blame me as much as you like, but in the end, it was a joint decision.’

‘You basically forced me and Jennie to go along with it.’

‘Whatever.’

I clench my teeth together so hard I feel a muscle in my jaw pop. ‘That’s it. I’m calling the police.’ I reach into my bag and take out my phone.

I don’t even manage to dial the first nine before Liv lunges at me like a possessed spirit. She has something in her hand, but I don’t see what it is before it slams down on my head. The force and shock send me stumbling backwards. My arms and legs feel disassociated from my body as I collapse to the ground with a thud.

Everything turns hazy. I fight the darkness for as long as I can, but then crash into it.

THIRTY-ONE

MEL

The first sensation I am aware of is a deep rumbling beneath me, like a giant beast awakening from a long slumber. Everything is moving, shaking and very loud. My stomach roils and flips, but then the throbbing starts in the back of my head, and it all snaps into focus in quick succession.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

I tried to reason with Liv. Talk some sense into her. We argued, and then she attacked me and knocked me out.

My eyes flutter open. The effort alone is almost enough to send me back into unconsciousness, but I fight against the urge as I look up at the roof of the van. It gives another rumble, another jolt, followed by squeaking brakes as it comes to a halt.

I let out a low groan, reaching my hand up to my head. My movements are slow and uncoordinated. The spot is tender, but when I pull my hand away, there’s no blood. Whatever she hit me with wasn’t sharp and didn’t leave a gash, but I have one hell of a lump.

‘Take your time getting up, or you’ll end up falling over like I did.’

I turn my head towards the voice and see Isaac sitting on top of the wooden trunk, staring at me. He has dried blood on the side of his head, emanating from a nasty-looking temple wound, which is still oozing. I’m on the floor, wedged between a chest of drawers and some boxes that have miraculously not fallen on top of me during transit.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ I say, shuffling into a seated position just as the van accelerates. It sends my centre of gravity off, and I topple sideways, catching myself before I face-plant on the floor. It takes a few seconds to right myself so I’m sitting up and facing Isaac.

He doesn’t look happy, but I’m pretty sure it’s not me he’s pissed off at.

‘How long have we been in here?’ I ask.

He clears his throat, gingerly touching his wound. ‘Not sure. The van was moving when I woke up, and I came to about fifteen minutes ago.’ He wipes some blood on his jacket.

I nod. ‘Have you tried calling for help on your phone?’

‘She’s taken it. Probably taken yours too.’

‘Have you tried calling out to her?’

‘Yep. Either she can’t hear me, or she’s ignoring me. I’m guessing it’s the latter.’

‘Listen, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘This has all got way out of hand.’

‘You think?’ Isaac looks around the inside of the van, then thumps the top of the trunk he’s sitting on. ‘Least I’ve found what I came for.’

‘Did you look inside?’

‘Briefly.’

‘I’m sorry. Were you able to find out the cause of death?’

‘I didn’t look that hard. What the hell were you lot thinking, Mel? Not informing the police about finding a body is a serious offence. Even a fucking child knows that.’

‘I know. I panicked.’ I don’t add anything else. It seems Isaac has no idea about the money that’s involved. ‘And, uh … this morning I found out something else too.’ I take a deep breath. ‘My mum and your dad were having a long-term affair. It seems he’s my dad too.’

Isaac’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, which must cause his injury to sting because he instantly winces. ‘No shit? Guess that means we’re half siblings.’

‘I guess so.’

‘And your dad found out and killed him.’

‘I haven’t found proof of that yet, but it’s a high possibility. Uncle Kevin – Dad – was involved with some sort of criminal activity, like I said, but again, I haven’t found out the details.’

‘Liv said something about you guys being threatened before she knocked my lights out. She accused me of killing your friend and threatening you. I can promise you now that it wasn’t me, but what did she mean by that? Has someone else found out about this?’

I narrow my eyes at him. It’s likely he knows this already because he’s a cop and has friends on the force, but I tell him anyway, interested to see his reaction.

‘Yes. Our friend Jennie and her husband were involved with a loan shark after coming into some money problems.’ I gulp, realising that I’m straying into dangerous territory. ‘And there was some money in the safe at work, but since this has all happened at the same time, Liv and I fear it may be connected somehow.’

‘Who is this loan shark? You got a name?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I have no idea, and neither does William, Jennie’s husband. He says he’s never met them directly, but Jennie had contact with a man who threatened her and her family. That’s why William has taken the kids away to his parents.’

‘But what’s this got to do with my dad … our dad?’

I stay quiet, thinking.

Luckily, Isaac takes my silence to mean that I don’t know and sighs heavily. ‘You realise that Liv’s going to be in a shit ton of trouble, right? So are you, but especially Liv. She’s kidnapped a police officer and attacked him.’

‘She said you attacked her first.’

Isaac glances away and tuts. ‘I just wanted her to stop talking. She was going crazy.’

‘You can’t blame a woman for defending herself.’

Isaac looks away and then stares down at the trunk.

‘What’s going to happen regarding the body?’ I ask.

‘Well, when we get out of here, there will be an investigation, and you two will be dragged over the coals and forced to explain why you didn’t report it to the authorities. I hope you have a damn good reason.’

‘Are we going to prison?’ I ask, already knowing the likely answer.

‘That’s not my call, but it’s a high possibility.’

‘I never wanted any of this to happen. You have to believe me.’

‘I know you’re a good person, Mel. I can see that. Was it Liv’s idea to not tell the police about the body?’

I nod, but then realise too late what I’ve done.

‘They may be more lenient on you if you cooperate and explain that Liv forced you to stay silent. She’s the one who’s going to come off worse anyway, seeing as how you’re locked in here with me, but you still lied to the police. You’re going to have to accept the consequences for that.’

‘I know,’ I say. I hang my head, guilt overwhelming me as I realise that if I want to get out of this unscathed, then I have to dob in my friend. I’m not sure I can do it. I’m just as much to blame for how things have turned out. I can’t let her take the blame for everything.

‘Once Liv stops the van, I’ll do my best to talk her round and hand herself in,’ I say.

‘If you can do that, then she may be able to escape a long-term prison sentence, but I’m not guaranteeing anything, you got that?’

‘Yes, of course.’

I lean my head against the boxes as the van sways side to side. Every now and then it hits a pothole and everything inside shakes and shifts, including us.

Where the hell is she taking us?

THIRTY-TWO

LIV

Everything is fucked up. Big time. I’m driving on autopilot to a place that I know is safe and isolated, where no one will think to look for me. My head is a jumbled mess. I have no idea what I’m doing or what I’ll do when I reach my destination, but for now, I keep on driving towards the Lake District.

I’ve been on the road for just over an hour. There’s only another hour and a half to go, but I don’t dare stop because Isaac is awake. I heard him shouting my name a while ago, but he’s stopped now, especially now that we’re on the motorway. There’s no chance of anyone hearing him amid the noise of the cars and lorries rumbling along the tarmac at seventy miles an hour.

I wonder if Mel is awake yet. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she gave me no other choice. I had to act fast. Why does she have this fundamental need to tell the police everything? Why does she always have to try to do the right thing all the time and make out like I’m the bad guy in all of this?

The police can’t be trusted, especially because Isaac is one of them. How can she not see that? The second he’s let loose, he’s going to hand me in, and I’m going to jail. Well, Mel can think again if she expects me to go down for this alone. I know I attempted to move the money and look for the money without her, but she’s shown her hand. She’d rather tell the police everything than stand by me. If that’s the way she wants to play things, then so be it.

I thought she’d understand. I really did. I tried to give her a chance, but she’s blown it, and now she’s in the back of this van, along with Isaac, someone else who’s betrayed me and is only out for themselves.

Two live bodies and one dead one.

In the back of a moving van, driving along the motorway towards the Lakes. I’m desperate. There’s no two ways about it, and somehow, I need to get Mel on my side or at least make her see reason. If I’m caught now, I’m going to prison. That’s why I’m driving far away and not looking back. I’ve got a long drive still ahead of me, alone with my spiralling thoughts, which are only going to send me down a darker and twistier path. I’m lost already, so I may as well keep going rather than turn back and try to fix everything. It can’t be fixed. I know that now. Some things, like people, can’t be put back together again once they’re broken.

I have nothing left to lose. My parents have dropped me. My only friend left alive has turned against me. I have no home, and someone out there wants to kill me. The only thing that can save me is the money that’s hopefully somewhere in the back of the van I’m driving. All I need to do is get rid of the two people in my way, and then I can start over.

A fresh start. A new life. A new me.

An hour and a half later, I arrive at my parents’ country estate in the Lake District, located only a few miles from Keswick. It’s an isolated mansion that has its own private lake, acres of grounds and large, thick woods surrounding it on all sides. It’s one of my favourite places in the world despite it belonging to my parents. I wish I could live here permanently. The quiet and peaceful surroundings are the perfect place to unwind and become one with nature. It quiets busy minds and soothes souls. Whether it can do it for mine is unclear. I’m not sure my soul is able to be soothed.

My parents spend a lot of the autumn months here. Sometimes, it’s rented out, but this year it’s quiet because it’s going through some renovations. Dad mentioned the work being on hold for the next two months while they await planning permission to add to the already oversized building. Apparently, the outside pool isn’t big enough and needs a roof, so it’s connected to the main part of the house. All I care about is that the place is empty.

As I rumble along the driveway, my eyes widen as I see the colossal white stone building. It always takes my breath away when I see its magnificence and splendour. To reach the yard, I have to open a set of gates, which I know the code for. They slam shut behind me, and I park in the main area out front.

I switch off the engine, but remain where I am, both hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles turn white. I pause for thirty seconds, wondering if my two prisoners are going to start yelling. They don’t. They can’t get out of the van because I locked it using the keys, but I need to ensure they don’t ambush me when I open the doors up. Perhaps I should have restrained them somehow, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had to get them inside the van and out of sight, didn’t have time to look around for any rope.

I decide on my plan of action and make a move.

There’s a spare key to the house in the lockbox by the east entrance, so I head there first and take it, then let myself into the house, switching off the alarm. I know where I’m headed. On the drive, I came up with a plan – not my best plan, but the only one I can think of in my panic-stricken state.

I walk through the vast hallways, through endless doors, towards the back of the house. I know all the codes, having jotted them down on my phone. My parents never changed them. That’s the one good thing about them – they are nothing if not predictable.

I grab what I need from my dad’s private room, then carry it out of the house and back to the van. They are shouting again now. Both of them, demanding to be let out, banging on the side, begging me to reconsider, to think things through, but all I hear is noise as I slam my fists on the side.

‘Hey! I’m going to open the back door. I need both of you to stay back, do you understand?’

They don’t answer, so I bang on the side again.

‘Yes, we understand,’ comes Mel’s timid voice. She’s scared, probably worried about what I’m going to do to her. It’s not her I’m concerned about. It’s Isaac. He’s dangerous and unpredictable and has attacked me once already. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll try to do it again, get one over on me, but I’ll be ready for him this time. I hold all the power, and I want him to know it.

And he soon will, the moment I open the door.

It’s awkward, but I unlock the doors, then fling them open. They are higher than I am, but as soon as Mel and Isaac set eyes on me pointing a hunting rifle at them, they know I mean business.

‘Liv …’ Mel’s eyes flash, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

‘No one move,’ I say, keeping my voice level.

‘Where are we?’ asks Mel, her eyes scanning behind me at the trees and grounds. She’s probably disorientated and confused, but I reckon she’ll clock where we are soon enough. She’s been here a couple of times before. The three of us would spend a good portion of our summer holidays here growing up, but my parents usually made it unbearable to stay longer than a week due to their overbearing nature.

‘What are you expecting to happen?’ asks Isaac. He’s staying near the back of the van, like I asked him to, but his body is coiled like a spring. The rifle is keeping him at bay though. Little does he know I didn’t load it. I don’t even know how to check the chamber.

‘I thought maybe we could all make a deal,’ I say.

‘A deal?’ asks Mel, her eyes narrowing.

‘Yes.’ I lock eyes with her. My mind races, wondering what she may have divulged to him while they’ve been locked in the back of the van. They’ve been in there for hours. She wouldn’t have been able to search for the money without him wondering what she was doing either.

‘What sort of deal?’ asks Isaac. His body has shifted forwards. He’s interested.

‘You both agree to help me destroy the body in that trunk, and I, in return, will give you a share of the money.’

‘What money?’ asks Isaac. Now, he’s really interested.

‘The money that your dad was trying to hide,’ I reply.

Isaac frowns and turns to Mel. ‘What is she talking about?’

Mel’s eyes swivel to me. ‘Uh, we found some cash along with the body.’

‘One hundred thousand pounds,’ I say, holding eye contact with her, hoping she realises what I’m doing. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to share one point one million pounds with Isaac.

‘A hundred grand? You’re holding us both at gunpoint for a measly hundred grand?’

My nostrils flare at his tone. ‘Well, fine, if you don’t want it, then I suppose you’re of no use to me.’ I aim the rifle higher. The weight of it is making my muscles ache, but I keep the weapon level, pointing mainly at him rather than Mel.

Isaac holds both his hands up. ‘Whoa, just calm down. I never said I wasn’t interested, but I’m finding it hard to believe that you’d risk prison time for such a low amount of money.’ He turns to Mel. ‘You seriously decided to keep quiet about Dad’s body for money?’

‘At the time, I had no idea who he was,’ replies Mel. She looks at me. ‘Liv, it turns out that Uncle Kevin is actually my father.’

This makes me do a double take. ‘Shit,’ I say.

Isaac moves again, so I aim the rifle higher. Why won’t he keep still? ‘I’m not going to give you another warning.’

‘Liv, look at yourself,’ says Mel, her voice pleading. ‘Look at what you’re doing.’

‘I wouldn’t have to be doing it if my best friend had just trusted me!’

‘But how can I trust you when you go behind my back? This is wrong, and you know it.’

I peer over the rifle at my friend. The person staring back at me is a stranger. I thought I knew who she was, but here she is, taking his side over mine. After everything we’ve been through, this is how it ends for us. Split apart because of money and a man.

‘No, Mel. What’s wrong is you thinking you always know what’s best for everyone, thinking you’re some goodie little two shoes everyone should listen to, but no one ever listens to me, do they?’

Mel scoffs. ‘That’s rich, considering we’re in this mess because me and Jennie listened to you in the first place.’

My cheeks heat at the mention of her name. Mel clocks it too and lowers her eyes to the floor. ‘I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, Liv. Please. Just lower the gun, and let’s talk, okay? Isaac is a cop. He can help us.’

‘Yeah, right. Like I’m going to trust him.’

‘Liv, you have to trust someone.’

‘I trust myself. Always have. Always will.’

Isaac tuts and shakes his head. ‘I should have known you were a crazy bitch when you asked me to choke you during sex.’

Mel’s mouth drops open. ‘You slept with him!’ she yells at me.

‘Oh, of course you have a go at me and not him,’ I snap back. ‘It was just a bit of fun, anyway.’

‘And yet you didn’t tell me.’

‘No, because you would have got all weird about it.’

‘Then why do it?’

I shrug, the muzzle of the rifle dipping. ‘I don’t know …’

Mel takes one step forwards. ‘Because you just love having all the power, don’t you? You love knowing something that no one else knows, like the whole William thing.’

‘Don’t–’

‘I bet you secretly enjoyed it when Jennie finally found out.’

‘Stop it–’

‘Because you always have to be the one in control, even if it means destroying your friends’ lives. Well, guess what, Liv. Congratulations. You’ve done it. You’ve successfully pushed us all away, and now you have a choice to make. You can either shoot us or let us go because there’s no way I’m making a deal with you. Not now. Not ever. I should have stood up to you a long time ago.’

My arms shake from the exertion of holding the rifle level, but her speech has caused my blood to boil over. My eyes bulge as I fight to hold back the floodgates.

I can’t believe she’s just said that to me. Who the hell does she think she is?

I see a flash of movement from the side and realise that Isaac has crept forward while Mel and I have been having our confrontation.

‘Isaac, I swear to God, I will blow your tiny dick off if you take another step.’

He laughs. ‘No, you won’t.’ He takes another step.

‘I’m warning you …’

Isaac still has his hands up, but he won’t stop inching closer to the edge of the van. It’s a long drop if he plans on jumping to the ground. The rifle is still pointing at him. He doesn’t know I’m making an empty threat, but now I wish it were loaded.

And then it happens.

Isaac lunges at me again, this time from above. All I see is his body coming towards me. I raise the rifle to use as a barrier, but my arms are like jelly after holding it out straight for so long. They are weak, uncoordinated, as I swing the barrel upwards and …

My finger slips onto the trigger.

BANG!

Isaac goes down with a thud at my feet, a giant bloody hole expanding in his chest.

THIRTY-THREE

MEL

The sound of the rifle firing makes my whole body vibrate. The echo rings in my ears. It happens in a flash, and the vibrations ricochet all over. I feel it in my chest as I try to breathe, but the shock is enough to render me useless. Liv looks just as shaken as me. Her eyes are wide, like a rabbit caught in headlights; her arms shake as she lowers the rifle barrel and rests it on the ground, as if the weight of it is too much to bear after what she’s just done.

There’s no doubt Isaac is dead.

The blood oozing out of him is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. When I’ve watched films on screen, there’s always that part of me that tells me it’s not real. It wouldn’t happen like that. There wouldn’t be that much blood.

But it’s true.

There is that much blood.

I have no idea what kind of calibre the rifle is, but it’s enough to blow a huge hole in Isaac’s chest. What was Liv thinking when she loaded that rifle? I didn’t know she knew how to handle a firearm.

He’s landed on his back, blown backwards by the force. I can’t tear my eyes away even though the sight is making me want to retch.

Liv steps backwards, still holding the rifle, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for breath.

I ball my hands into fists and fly at her, launching myself off the back of the van. She’s not expecting it, and we go down hard, my left leg catching on a protruding piece of metal on the rifle.

I’m not sure what my plan is. All I know is Liv is dangerous. She’s reckless, and now that she’s killed someone in cold blood, there’s no telling what she’ll do next. I kick and claw at her, hoping to inflict pain or somehow ensure she can’t get back up. I unleash everything I have at her, all the pent-up emotion I’ve held back for the past few days and weeks. It floods out of me, and I can barely control my rage. A horrible screech, like an injured animal, comes out of my throat.

She knees me in the stomach, and I catch the side of her face with a fist. But Liv has the rifle and uses it as a shield, eventually shoving me off her and away from the van.

I stumble on the gravel but see my chance to escape.

I run towards the nearest form of safety, which is a copse of trees off to the east.

‘Mel!’ Liv screams behind me, but I don’t stop until I’m behind cover.

I flatten my back against the bark of the tree, my chest rising and falling hard to take in enough oxygen. My mouth is dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I peer around the edge of the tree to look for Liv.

I can see the van and Isaac’s body, but Liv is gone.

It’s then that I remember I don’t have my phone on me. Liv took it before she shoved me in the back of the van with Isaac. I look around at the trees surrounding me on all sides, each one the same as the next. I’m not sure what’s ahead, but there’s bound to be a road at the end of the property line, so I start running again.

‘Mel!’ She sounds closer than before.

She’s chasing me.

My best friend is chasing after me with a hunting rifle.

Has she reloaded? I’ve got no idea about rifles or weapons of any kind, but does Liv? If she grew up here, hunting with her father, does she know how to use it properly?

I never thought I’d be running for my life. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How has it got this far? I barely have time to take another breath before I trip over a root and crash down to my knees. I scramble for something to grab to pull myself up, which happens to be a fallen branch. A sting of pain slices through my palm as I clench my fingers around it, but it barely registers.

‘Mel, stop!’

But I don’t stop. I can’t. Because she’s going to kill me if I do.

Tears blur my vision. My feet barely feel like they’re attached to my body. Everything swims in and out of focus. My leg muscles burn from exertion. I don’t remember the last time I went running, but this is different from a casual jog. I’m running for my life. The adrenaline pumping through my body is causing everything to feel heightened.

The trees around me all look the same. I can’t see a designated path at all, so I jump and scramble up banks and leap over fallen trunks, hoping, praying that I’ll come across a road or a path, something that will guide me to safety. Despite the trees, I’m still exposed. I have no idea where Liv is. I do know that we’re at Liv’s parents’ country estate in the Lake District, having briefly taken in my surroundings when I finally got out of the van, but I didn’t think twice about it because all I could focus on was the dead body at my feet and the need to save myself.

I’m still running … gasping for breath and running and then …

An ear-splitting scream erupts behind me.

I slam to a stop, my calves and thighs protesting. That wasn’t a shout for me to stop. It sounded like an animal in pain … or a human.

Liv …

I step forwards, to start running again, ready to leave her behind, but I don’t get far before I come to a halt, my shoulders relaxing as I realise I don’t need to run for my life anymore.

She’s hurt.

It’s a trap. She’s baiting you.

I want more than anything to trust my friend, but I can’t, not after everything she’s done to me.

‘Mel!’ This time, when Liv screams my name, which echoes through the trees, it’s not full of anger, but of pain.

‘Liv,’ I whisper as I turn on the spot and walk through the thick undergrowth, back the way I came. This could be a monumental mistake, but I have to check that she’s okay. I need to start doing the morally right thing.

The farther I walk, the more I hear. Cries and moans ahead. As I come into a small clearing that I didn’t pass before, I see her on the ground, her face red, the rifle lying beside her.

‘Liv …’

She looks up and spots me. ‘Mel!’ She erupts into tears, clutching her right leg. ‘Mel, I’ve broken my leg. It hurts so fucking much. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please help me.’ She stumbles over every word, barely able to speak through the tears and pain she’s clearly in.

There’s no way she’s faking this. Her knee is twisted at an unnatural angle. I see stars as I fight the nausea that rises to the surface. Oh, God …

I rush forwards but then spy the rifle again. My eyes clock it. If she wanted to, she could reach across, grab it and aim it at me before I make it to her.

Liv obviously sees me fighting against my better judgement. Through her tears, she fumbles for the rifle and chucks it as far as she can. The movements make her convulse in pain as her knee jerks sideways with the force. She screams, and I lunge forward, throwing myself at her side.

‘Okay, okay, just take a breath, okay? Just breathe.’

Liv takes three deep breaths, then leans over and vomits. She straightens up and wipes her mouth, crying more. ‘Mel, I’m so sorry.’

‘Look, just stop saying that, okay? I know you’re sorry. We’re all sorry. Let me just … do you think you can stand if I help you?’

Liv nods and bites her lip.

‘Where’s my phone?’ I ask.

‘I destroyed it.’

‘Liv!’

‘I panicked! I told you I’m a fuck-up. I fucked up.’ She keeps crying, saying things I can’t make out, but there’s no time to placate her and make her feel better about what she’s done. There’s nothing I can say.

‘Where’s your phone, then?’

Liv gulps back a cough. ‘In the van.’

‘Okay, let’s get you back there and then …’ I stop as she locks eyes with me. ‘Did you find the money?’ I ask.

‘No, not yet.’

‘It doesn’t matter. We’re calling the police. It’s over, Liv. You know that, right?’

Liv sniffs loudly and nods, saying nothing.

I bend down and help her to her feet. She whimpers and cries as her leg is shifted, all the blood rushing down to the injured area. There’s no bone poking through the skin, but I’m pretty sure her knee is dislocated, and she possibly fractured her tibia.

She leans most of her weight on me as I navigate us both back through the thick woodland. The ground is uneven and littered with twigs and rocks. Her breathing is laboured, sweat is beading on her forehead, but she keeps going, clenching her jaw together when she stumbles and it knocks her leg.

‘We’re nearly there, Liv. Just … you’re doing great.’

‘I can’t believe you came back for me.’

‘I wasn’t going to leave you there.’

‘But I was chasing you with a rifle.’

I stop for a second and give her a look. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

‘I wasn’t thinking. I swear, Mel. I didn’t know it was loaded. I didn’t know how to check it. Why the fuck did my dad have a loaded rifle in the house?’

I stay silent, not sure whether I should believe her.

Liv is silent as we start hobbling forwards again, but then she whispers, ‘I wouldn’t have shot you. I just wanted to talk to you.’

‘You shot Isaac.’

‘He attacked me. And I told you I didn’t know the rifle was loaded.’

‘He was trying to get the rifle off you before you shot your own foot off or something.’

‘It was an accident.’

‘I know, but … it’s going to be difficult to explain to the police.’

Liv winces as she catches her foot on a stump. I catch her before she face-plants on the ground. We keep going, and it takes us nearly twenty minutes to get back to the van; the body of Isaac is still lying in a pool of blood, which has expanded since I last saw it.

I help Liv over to the side of the van and lower her to the ground. She sits with her back against the wheel while I fetch her phone from the inside of the van. I crouch in front of her, holding it in my hand. ‘You realise what I’m about to do?’

Liv nods. ‘I lost myself, Mel. All I thought about was myself and the money. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. I will tell the police anything you want me to.’

‘How about the truth?’

‘Yes, the truth. I promise I will. I’m done. I’m so tired of running and lying. I just want everything to stop.’

‘You may end up in prison. Hell, I may end up in prison. We’re going to lose our business. We’re going to lose everything.’

Liv nods. ‘I know,’ she says as she shifts sideways, trying to find a comfortable spot. ‘As long as I don’t lose you.’ She gives me a weak smile, and I smile back, reaching my hand out to touch her, but something makes me hesitate. After what seems like an eternity, I give her hand a squeeze. ‘My bag is in the front. Can you grab it for me, please?’ she asks.

I nod, stand up and fetch it. She takes it and reaches in, pulling out a gold watch.

The Rolex that was on the body.

‘Oh my God, you took the watch?’

‘I thought it might be worth something. I never got around to having it valued.’

‘You realise it’s fake, right?’

‘I do now …’ Liv sighs and hands it out to me. ‘Here. You should have it. It belonged to your dad. Your real dad.’

I take it and squeeze her hand gently. ‘Thank you, but I expect I’ll have to hand it in as evidence or something.’

‘Well, do whatever you want with it.’

‘Thank you.’ I place it in my pocket, then take a deep breath. ‘Are you ready?’ I hold up the phone.

‘Do it.’

I call the police, explain the situation regarding the accidental shooting, and we wait.

It’s getting dark now, so Liv asks me to go into the house so I can turn the outside yard lights on. The yellow glow reflects off the blood pool around Isaac and gives me a creepy tingle. It’s been almost an hour since Liv shot him. The police are on their way.

We don’t have much time left until our worlds are turned upside down and split apart. We will be pulled apart at the seams, questioned, interrogated, and accused. We may not be allowed to see each other. I don’t know what will happen, but I know I want to be there for my friend despite what she’s done. She said she didn’t mean to kill Isaac, but there’s a part of me that’s angry with her because of everything that’s happened. I should never have let it get this far. I’m angry at myself too.

I haven’t killed anyone, but Liv has. The high probability is that she’s going to prison, but all we can do is explain ourselves and find out who Jennie’s killer is. The loan shark is still out there, and whoever has threatened us will either step back into the shadows, not willing to get involved now that everything is out in the open, or they will make a move and show their face.

One way or another, the truth will come out.

I take a seat on the ground next to Liv and lean my head against her shoulder. She rests her head on top of mine, and we sit there, holding hands, awaiting our fate as the sirens blare up the long driveway ahead.

The flashing blue and red lights blind me as two police cars skid to a halt, followed by an ambulance. Armed officers leap from the cars and surround the van. Shouts and orders make me dizzy as I get to my feet, holding my hands above my head.

Handcuffs are placed on me. Liv too, but she’s also attended to by the paramedics, who give her morphine and get her comfortable on a stretcher.

Questions are fired at me left, right and centre. I answer them all truthfully.

We’re both arrested and read our rights.

I’m arrested for perverting the course of justice, and Liv is arrested for suspected manslaughter. Isaac’s body is left where it is while the police carry out their investigations, gather evidence and take pictures from various angles.

I watch as Liv is loaded into the back of the ambulance, handcuffed to the stretcher. She sits up and looks at me as the double doors close. And then she’s gone.

I’m already sitting in the police car.

‘Am I going to the station?’ I ask the officer in the front seat. She’s been keeping a close eye on me since they all arrived. She’s been kind, firm and honest, so I can’t complain about that.

‘Yes. Do you have anyone you’d like to call?’

‘I’m probably going to need to get legal advice, right?’

‘Yes, a duty solicitor can be provided for you.’

I nod my agreement.

‘Anyone else?’

‘No, there’s no one,’ I reply sadly.

THIRTY-FOUR

LIV

Four weeks later

I awkwardly bend down level with the oven door, open it and slide in the tray of cupcake batter. Baking has become my hobby since there’s not a lot else I can do. The weeks have passed by one agonising day at a time. I feel as if I’m in a dream. No, a nightmare that never ends. Instead, it constantly twists, splits and changes direction at the drop of a hat, constantly giving me whiplash. But I deserve every bit of unease, torture and torment.

I set a timer, then hobble over to the counter to clean up.

Each day brings new unknowns, more questions and different challenges. I face them all, knowing I have my best friend by my side, even if it was metaphorically rather than physically at first because we weren’t allowed to see each other while we went through the system.

Mel and I were charged with perverting the course of justice, and I was also charged with involuntary manslaughter. Possible prison sentences loom ahead of us, ranging from eighteen months to three years for Mel, and two to five years for me. However, we are awaiting some more information, and both cases are on hold until we are told otherwise.

Once I clean the counter, I shuffle over to a chair and sit down, staring at the oven, waiting for the cupcakes to rise. I’ve also been making bread and doughnuts. Anything is better than sitting and watching television or scrolling mindlessly through social media, where Mel and I are mentioned everywhere.

I pleaded that I never intended to shoot Isaac, and that I had no idea the rifle was armed. My dad admitted that he kept it loaded in case of an emergency. Along with Mel’s statement that Isaac did attack me first, I was able to claim it was self-defence, but it’s still highly likely that I’ll pay for my mistake with time in prison.

We are both out on bail until our final sentencing, when we will find out whether we’re going to prison. Mel plans to use the time she has left to sort through her mother’s house and put it on the market. Since our business has closed, neither of us have any income coming in, so we are living at Mel’s mother’s house while it’s being sold. My leg is still in a cast. It was not only dislocated at the knee, but broken in two places along the tibia and fibula.

To make ends meet, Mel has taken the only job she could get an interview for – a waitress at the local coffee shop. She knows the owner well, and she took pity on her. Mel says she doesn’t deserve it, but it means she can pay for food and utilities for the time being, as well as help to cover the costs of selling the house. Mel’s mum didn’t leave a lot in the way of money behind.

It’s all a complete mess, and, honestly, we’re getting by one day at a time, taking everything as it comes. To be honest, I think I got off lightly considering what I did, what I made Mel do. We’re still no closer to finding out why Kevin died or who killed him, but it’s being handled by the police now. However, due to the amount of time that has passed, it’s highly unlikely we’ll ever know. There’s no DNA tying Mel’s dad to the crime, or her mum.

The one point one million hasn’t been found. We’ve had no further contact from whoever it was who was threatening us, and the police haven’t found out who it was. Mel and I both want to know, but we’re in no position to keep digging around, especially with our bail conditions being so strict. We have curfews and restrictions on where we can travel. It feels like living with my parents all over again.

My dad reached out to me when I was arrested and said that he could make everything go away with the snap of his fingers if I agreed to come back home and do as he says. I told him to get fucked, and I’ve never been prouder of myself.

The oven timer dings, so I remove the cupcakes, smiling at my accomplishment. I let them cool while I heat up a microwave meal. Mel is at work this evening for a late shift, so I’m having dinner alone. With my leg still being in a cast, it’s a struggle to get around, so I’m having to sleep downstairs on the sofa. I have crutches, but the kitchen floor is slippery, and I’ve already stacked it twice today.

My phone on the worktop rings. My heart thuds harder when I see who it is. ‘William!’

‘Hey, Liv.’

‘I … I didn’t expect to hear from you.’

‘Yes, well, after seeing everything on the news, I didn’t plan on getting in contact with you again … ever, but I had a change of heart. How are you?’

‘I’ve been better, but how are you? The kids?’

‘We’re okay. We have settled with my parents for the time being, but there’s some lovely places around here. I haven’t been contacted by the loan shark, and it’s all gone quiet on that front. My parents have said they will help me out financially. I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful to them. It’s for the kids, really.’

‘No one has been arrested for Jennie’s murder yet either,’ I say solemnly.

‘I know. I want to keep fighting for justice for Jennie, but … I’m afraid for my kids. I need to keep them safe, and right now, it seems no one knows where I am, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.’

‘Of course. I understand. They haven’t closed the case yet, but it does appear to have gone cold. There was no evidence left on the scene apart from the piece of paper that Mel handed in, but there was no DNA found apart from hers.’

‘Nothing on CCTV?’

‘We didn’t have it in the warehouse itself, only on the outside. It caught Isaac entering and leaving, roughly around the time of her murder, but because he’s dead, there’s no way of finding out for sure.’

‘Are the police saying it was him?’

‘No, that’s the thing. He told us he had friends in high places. I’m not sure what’s going on, but he seems to have got away with it. There was evidence that he entered the warehouse while Jennie was there. She entered only moments before.’

‘That son of a bitch.’

‘Listen, William, I’m so glad you and the kids are safe and settled. I’m sorry how things turned out. If I could take it all back, I would. You know that, right?’

‘It doesn’t bring Jennie back though, does it?’

‘No,’ I say, wounded by his words, but knowing I deserve them and worse.

A knock at the door makes me check over my shoulder. I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, and I can’t get to the door without my crutches.

‘Uh, there’s someone at the door. I have to go, but thank you for contacting me and letting me know you’re okay.’

‘See you around, Liv.’

‘No, you probably won’t,’ I reply as I hang up. Whether he heard me or not, I don’t know. I hate the thought of losing him, but he’s better off without me.

‘Coming!’ I call out as I realise it’s been at least thirty seconds since the knock. I hobble as fast as I can on the crutches to the front door, twist the key and open it.

I gasp in surprise when I see who is standing on the doorstep with a huge grin on her face and her arms wide open.

‘Liv!’ she screams.

Before I can stop her, she throws herself at me, squeezing tight. I’m left speechless.

THIRTY-FIVE

MEL

I pick up the few coins left on the table and put them in my pocket. It’s been a long day, and I’m looking forward to getting home to see Liv, taking a much-needed hot shower and putting my feet up.

I’m on the late shift tonight. Due to the curfew, I have to be back inside my house by ten o’clock in the evening. It’s plenty of time to walk back from the coffee shop, which turns into a trendy bar after six. A lot has changed over the past few weeks. My priorities have shifted too.

‘Hey, Mel. Good work today,’ says Gemma, my boss, who runs the cafe and bar.

‘Thanks, Gem. My feet are killing me. I’m looking forward to getting home.’

Gemma smiles. ‘Say hi to Liv for me.’

‘I will.’

Gemma is one of the only people who has been kind to us lately. God knows we don’t deserve it. I’m glad that Liv is okay and has cooperated with the police. I told them everything, every small detail, and handed them the note I found on Jennie’s body, hoping it would be enough for a conviction for her murderer, but the case has come to a grinding halt. It’s been an infuriating whirlwind these past few weeks, and there’s no guarantee of when it will end.

Isaac was spotted on CCTV entering the warehouse where Jennie was, and then leaving soon after. Why was he there? What did they talk about? But the police have disregarded the evidence, and some of Isaac’s friends provided proof that he wasn’t involved, which makes no sense in my eyes. I haven’t been told what that is, but it’s safe to say that, even dead, Isaac has managed to somehow weasel his way out of his mess.

He has to have been involved somehow. I want to keep digging because I refuse to end up in prison knowing that Jennie’s killer is still out there, that the loan shark who threatened her and her family can keep doing it to other people, but I’m at a loss of what to do. I feel uncharacteristically useless.

I say goodbye to Gemma and my other colleagues, then head into the back to grab my bag and jacket. The light summer evening is warm enough not to need it, so I tie the sleeves around my waist as I walk home. I check my new phone and see two missed calls from Liv. I call her back, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I’m typing out a message to her when a text appears from her.

Hey, Mel. Can you get home ASAP, please? I’ve just found out something you might find useful xx

My pace increases, but not enough to break into a jog. Liv’s message intrigues me. I didn’t know she was still searching for answers. I assumed she’d put everything behind her. I really hope she hasn’t done anything that could affect her bail conditions.

Fifteen minutes later, I reach the front door, slide the key into the lock and pull it open, calling out that I’m home.

‘In here,’ calls a voice from the living room. She sounds weird, like there’s a catch in her throat.

As I put my bag down and hang my keys on the hook by the door, I notice that the house is dark. It’s still light enough outside to see, but it is now dusk, and with all the curtains drawn, the house feels as if it’s empty and void of life.

‘Liv?’

I walk into the living room to see a single lamp on in the far corner. Liv is sitting on a chair nearby, her injured leg stretched in front of her. My eyes rise to her face. Her left eye is puffy, and she has a rag pulled tight across her mouth that’s causing red marks at the corners of her lips.

It wasn’t her who spoke …

That’s when I realise her arms are pulled tight behind her, tied to the back of the chair.

My eyes dart left to right, searching for an explanation. ‘What’s going on?’

I rush forwards to help her, but she shakes her head vigorously, eyes wide, letting out a strangled sound from the back of her throat.

I stop in my tracks.

‘Hello, Mel,’ says a familiar voice I haven’t heard for a very long time.

A woman steps out from the kitchen, and my heart misses a beat as I see my twin sister, Mary, standing in front of me. All five feet seven of her. Blonde hair, cherry-red lips and stylish knee-high boots.

The shock must be evident on my face because she laughs. ‘Yes, I expect you’re a little surprised to see me.’

My mouth opens, and at first, no sound comes out other than a weird whimper, but then I find my voice and say, ‘Yes, you could say that, considering you didn’t even bother to show up for Mum’s funeral.’

‘Shows how much attention you were paying that day.’

‘You were there, then?’

‘Of course I was there. Do you honestly think I’d miss our own mother’s funeral?’

‘Yes, I do,’ I reply curtly. ‘What are you doing here, and why have you tied Liv up? She’s injured.’

‘I can see that. Looks like it was a nasty break. Good job she’s sitting down, huh?’

‘Mary, what is this? I haven’t seen you for years, and now you come back just after I’ve been through the worst time in my life.’

Mary laughs, throwing her head back. ‘You really have been having a rough time. I’ve followed everything on the news. It will be a shame to see you carted off to prison. I’ll miss you, sis.’

‘That’s debatable, considering you haven’t contacted me for years, despite my numerous attempts.’

‘I’m back to claim what’s rightfully mine.’

I frown at her, then glance at Liv, who is unable to do anything but watch. She tries to adjust her bad leg, but her arms are tied too tight, so all she can do is shift her weight from one side to the other. Tears are running down her cheeks.

‘I don’t understand, Mary. Do you mean Mum’s house?’

‘No, I couldn’t give a shit about Mum’s house, not in the brick-and-mortar sense, but what I am after is something that’s inside it. Something that you’ve already found, it seems. You saved me a lot of work, Mel. I have to hand it to you, but you fucked it up big time.’

As I stare at my twin sister, who looks nothing like me in the physical sense, I can’t help but see a certain resemblance to someone else. She looks a lot more like Uncle Kevin – Dad – than I do. It occurs to me that Mary would have no idea about our dad not being our biological dad, and there’s an evil part of me that wants to keep it from her. She seems to have kept a lot from me.

‘I know I did, but what …’ I stop and rethink my words. ‘Can you just untie my friend so we can talk normally? You know, like sisters.’

Mary grins, ignoring Liv completely as she steps closer to me, holding eye contact, a skill she’s always been better at than me. As kids, she’d always win staring contests, no matter how many times I’d beg for a rematch.

‘I can’t do that, Mel. She’s my collateral.’

‘What are you … Can you explain yourself, Mary?’ My brain hurts trying to figure out what she’s doing here. I’m still in shock seeing her standing in Mum’s house. There was a part of me that thought I’d never see her again. ‘Are you here for your inheritance? Mum didn’t have anything left other than this house, and unless you want a load of junk and furniture, then …’ I stop as the answer clicks into place.

I know what she wants, what she’s after. She said it wasn’t the bricks and mortar she wanted, but something inside the house.

‘You know about the storage unit,’ I say quietly.

Mary winks. ‘Bingo. See, I knew you were smart. Let’s see if you can figure everything else out without any help.’

‘Everything else?’

Mary rolls her eyes, and that’s when I see a glint of metal sticking out of the waistband of her jeans. It glints under the dim light of the lamp. She’s got a knife.

‘My God, it’s like we’re fifteen years old again and I have to spell it out for you. Remember when you couldn’t understand why Mike Hanks didn’t like you? It’s cos you wouldn’t suck him off, Mel. Duh!’

Her words sting, but it’s nothing I don’t know already. Mary made it quite clear that day and then went behind my back, and the next thing I knew, she and Mike were dating. My sister isn’t a nice person, yet I’ve always stood up for her, always made excuses for her, until recently.

I stare at Mary, trying to work out what she means by everything else, and then I look at Liv, who can’t talk due to the gag around her mouth, but she is crying, and that tells me enough.

‘It was you,’ I say, turning back to Mary. ‘Did you kill Jennie?’

Mary slow claps, and it boils my blood, making my fists clench at my sides.

‘B-But … Why? How! What …’

Mary sighs and casually checks her gel nails, as if she’s bored of waiting for me to find the answer. ‘Fuck’s sake, Mel. Don’t you know anything? Remember the last time we spoke; we fell out over money, right? Well, not long after that, I met someone who was loaded, and I managed to trick him into giving me a fortune. I got a taste for it, so I set up my own business, as it were. Kind of like you!’

‘A business?’ I ask, raising my eyebrows.

‘Yes, a financial business … of sorts.’

It takes a moment for the key to slot into place. ‘You’re the loan shark William borrowed money from?’ I close my eyes and let out a long breath. ‘Oh my God …’

‘That’s right. Although loan shark sounds so gangster, right? It’s a bit outdated. I prefer the term alternative credit provider.’ She grins at me and blows an imagined piece of fluff off her nails, which are perfectly manicured with pale pink polish.

‘Who was the guy who followed Jennie and threatened William?’

‘Oh, he’s just some random guy I paid to make some threats and say what I wanted him to say. People will do anything for money, as you well know. As much as I enjoy my work, I like to remain the person behind the curtain, as it were. Plus, it’s really hard to be threatening and menacing when you look like me.’ She flips her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder and gives me a smile and a wink. She’s evil incarnate, yet I never thought she could stoop this low.

‘Anyway, I’m not here to talk about Jennie. She’s old news. I’m here to collect what’s rightfully mine. I know you know where the money is, so I suggest you hand it over.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, come on, Mel. There’s no need to be like that. I’ve known for a long time about Uncle Kevin.’ She uses air quotes for his name. ‘I was there that night when he and Dad had their little discussion. I heard everything. Well, almost everything. Dad accused Kevin of stealing money from a security van that had been in the news, and Kevin blurted out that he was our real dad. It got ugly. Real ugly. Then Kevin ran off, but unfortunately, I never found out where the money was. Regrettably, I didn’t manage to follow him because I was twenty and had no idea how to tail someone, but what I did have was information. I just had to bide my time and see what happened. I was willing to wait for as long as needed to walk away with that money.’

‘Wait … so Dad didn’t kill Uncle Kevin? He ran away after their argument?’

‘Yes, he was fine. Dad’s not a killer. He told him to pack up his things, take the blood money – all one point two million pounds of it – and leave and never come back.’

Mary still believes there’s over a million pounds out there somewhere. She’s mistaken. She must have heard wrong.

THIRTY-SIX

MEL

‘B-But … we didn’t find that much, Mary. We only found a hundred grand. The police have searched everything that was in the storage unit and found nothing.’

Mary tuts. ‘Maybe they weren’t looking hard enough.’

‘How did you find out about his body in the storage unit and the money? None of us told anyone.’

Mary grins and points at me. ‘Because of you, dear sister. When Mum died, I knew it was my final chance to find out where that money went, where Uncle Kevin – sorry, Dad – ended up, so I went to the funeral in disguise. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I saw cousin Isaac talking to you and learned that he was searching for his father too, so I used him to help myself. You led me straight to him! I let everything play out, biding my time, but then you went and screwed it up.’

My bottom jaw hangs open. I have so many more questions that need to be asked, but I have to get Liv and me out of this situation. Mary is dangerous and unpredictable. She always has been, but now she looks even more unhinged and desperate. Money does evil things to people, changes them. Mum was right. Mary was always unkind and out for herself, and it’s made her even more ruthless and arrogant.

‘Dear old Dad would have had the money on him. There’s no way he would have left it somewhere,’ continues Mary.

‘But who killed him?’ I ask.

‘How should I know? I wasn’t there, but I reckon I can take a guess as to what happened.’

‘Go on then. Enlighten me, since you seem to think you’re so smart.’

Mary smirks. ‘I’ve always been much smarter than you, Mel, and you know it. Okay, so what I reckon happened is that Dad and Uncle Kevin – let’s just call him Uncle Kevin because, I don’t know about you, but it’s fucking weird thinking of him as our actual dad – they argue, right? Uncle Kevin pulls out the big guns and hits Dad right where it hurts and tells him that he’s our real dad. Dad then doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, tells him to take his money and leave, to never come back. Then Uncle Kevin leaves, but before he can, he gets stabbed by the people he crossed regarding the money …’

‘And who are they?’ I interject.

‘Again, how the fuck should I know? It was fifteen years ago. It doesn’t even matter. Right, so he gets stabbed, but somehow still manages to get away. Maybe he runs to the storage unit because he and Dad have used it before or something. Whatever. He hides out there and then realises that he’s dying, so he calls Dad to come and help him. Dad isn’t so cold-hearted that he’d leave his brother to die, right? So he goes to the storage unit to help him, but instead Dad finds him dead, along with the case of money. He decides to hide them both in the unit, locks it up and hides the key, and tells everyone that Uncle Kevin ran away and left his family, leaving Mum heartbroken and his family devastated. That way, he doesn’t have to deal with any of it.’

Mary talks fast, and I struggle to keep up with her words as they spill out. She paces up and down in front of me, gesturing wildly, still with the knife tucked into her waistband.

‘I tried over the following days to get Dad to tell me where the money was, but he denied ever knowing about it and said he didn’t know what I was talking about, but I could tell I had him worried. He didn’t want me to have it. Then, would you believe it, he went and died suddenly two weeks later.’ Mary huffs, like it’s a massive inconvenience that our dad died and took his secret to the grave. She thinks he did it out of spite somehow.

‘Mary,’ I say, a warning tone to my voice, ‘you didn’t–’

‘Didn’t what? Kill Dad? Ha!’ She throws her head back and fakes a laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. His dying was the worst thing that could have happened because he took his secret with him. Mum didn’t have a clue, did she? I searched the house as best I could whenever I came back from university over the years, but never found anything. She wouldn’t let me read her diaries either. She was always so secretive about them, but I doubt she would have been stupid enough to write anything she did know down on paper. I left and got on with my life. I forgot about the whole thing, deciding to come at it from a different angle another time.’ She sighs and looks out the window, even though the curtains are drawn. There’s a dark flicker in her eyes.

But she’s not finished yet.

‘Then Mum died, and I saw an opportunity to come back and try again, to see if any secrets crept out of the woodwork, as it were.’ She winks at me like she’s telling a joke regarding my furniture business, then sighs. ‘But things went a little south, didn’t they? Because you went and bloody found that key first. I kept a close eye on you. I followed you that day and realised you’d struck gold. I just had to wait, send you a few threatening emails and see what happened.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ I mutter, shaking my head. I am ashamed that not only are we related, but that we’re twin sisters. I shared a womb with her, yet she’s the complete opposite of me in almost every way. Yes, I made a mistake and am now possibly going to prison for what I did, but what she’s done is miles worse. She killed Jennie, and she’s standing there, acting casual, expecting to get away with it. I’m not going to let that happen. There’s no chance.

I need to keep her talking, somehow get help, but my phone is in my pocket, and if I make a move to use it, she’ll see me. She’s admitting to everything, but it’s all just words unless I can prove it, and she’s clever. She’ll have covered her tracks, and because she let me find the money, she’s not complicit in any of this except for killing Jennie. I need to know more about how she did it, how she avoided the cameras.

‘Mary, I don’t know how many more times you need me to say this, but there is no more money. You took everything from Jennie that was left when you killed her and took the money from the safe. Everything else is gone; there’s no more money. The police have searched the van and the storage unit, and there’s nothing in there.’

Mary narrows her eyes at me, a muscle in her jaw flinching. ‘You’re lying. You’ve hidden it somewhere.’

‘I haven’t. I swear to you. How did you get around the cameras at my business warehouse?’

‘Oh, I see what you’re trying to do here. You’re trying to set me up.’

‘I just want to know why you had to kill Jennie. She did nothing wrong. She opened the safe for you, didn’t she?’

‘She saw my face. I couldn’t risk her blabbing. I watched as our dear cousin went and spoke to her. They shared a few harsh words, then he left, and I snuck in the back and confronted her. She was quite surprised to see me, but she would have told you, so she had to die.’

Liv makes a gargling noise through her gag, leaning forwards, straining at her restraints. I take a step to comfort her, help her, but Mary leaps into action, whipping out the knife and holding it against Liv’s throat.

I freeze on the spot.

‘Right, Mel, it looks like you’ve got a decision to make,’ says Mary, eyes gleaming.

THIRTY-SEVEN

MEL

My breath gets stuck in my throat as Mary’s grip on the knife tightens. Her hands are shaking, but it’s not from fear but pure rage. She thinks I have something she wants, and she’s willing to kill my friend to get it. She presses the blade against Liv’s pale throat. One flinch and the sharp edge will slice through her thin flesh, straight into her neck.

‘Please,’ I say, ‘think about what you’re doing, Mary. This isn’t you.’

‘How would you know? You don’t know me. Never even tried to know me, just like Mum and Dad,’ she bellows. Her vicious verbal assault makes her hand tremble even more, and Liv winces and whimpers as the blade nicks her skin. A tiny bead of blood oozes out and trickles down her neck.

‘Okay, okay,’ I say, putting my hands up.

Liv locks her eyes on mine and gives a small movement of her head, enough to tell me to not do whatever it is I am thinking of doing. To be honest, I don’t have a plan, so I don’t know what I’m going to do. I stand there, helpless, as Liv’s mouth moves and a strangled sound comes out. She’s trying to speak, but the gag is muffling her.

‘What was that?’ asks Mary sarcastically.

Liv tries again, so Mary rips off the gag.

Liv opens her mouth wide, stretching her jaw. ‘I said …’ She takes a breath. ‘I know where the money is. Mel doesn’t know anything. I have it.’

My eyes widen. I’ve known Liv to lie to me before, but she promised me she was telling the truth and that she didn’t find the money. Has she been lying all this time, or is this a clever ruse to distract Mary?

Mary pats Liv on the shoulder. ‘There. You see! Finally, someone with a bit of sense. I knew one of you had it.’

Liv coughs, choking on her own saliva and tears. ‘I’m sorry, Mel.’

I gasp. ‘You had the money this whole time!’

She nods, squeezing out another tear. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says again.

My eyes dart to the side, spotting the large vase on top of the mantel. It’s within reaching distance, but my body is wrestling with my brain as to which decision is the best one.

Mary withdraws the knife from Liv’s throat.

Liv launches sideways – still tied to the chair and with a broken leg – and tips against Mary, who is caught off guard and topples over.

There’s my chance.

I grab the vase with both hands and smash it on top of Mary’s head. It disintegrates on impact as Mary screams and sinks to the floor. She drops the knife, which I leave where it lands. Mary’s eyes glaze over as I bend in front of her.

‘You never know, sis. Maybe we’ll be sharing a prison cell,’ I say before she passes out.

It’s over …

Liv is still awkwardly lying on her side. I untie her hands from the back of the chair and then help her up. She must be in a lot of pain after falling on her broken leg, but she grabs me tight, clinging to me like I’m her last lifeline.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, pulling her chin up so she can look me in the eyes.

She nods as she pulls away from my hug. ‘Yes, I think so.’

‘You were so brave.’

‘Not as brave as you,’ she adds.

We both glance down at Mary on the floor.

‘I can’t believe it’s over,’ says Liv. ‘She was behind everything.’

‘I can’t believe it myself,’ I reply. I take out my phone and call the police, explaining what’s happened. I then help Liv to the sofa. She may need to be checked over at the hospital in case the fall has damaged her leg further.

‘You don’t have the money, do you?’ I ask.

Liv shakes her head. ‘No. I didn’t lie to you before.’

‘I know. But at least Mary believed you did.’

Police officers arrive on the scene within ten minutes and handcuff Mary, who is just starting to come around as they enter. They place her under arrest. There’s no guarantee that she’ll talk, but she told us everything. I just hope that there’s proof to back it up.

We get questioned again, and I explain several times that it was Mary who killed Jennie and threatened her family. I give as much detail as possible, telling them everything she revealed to me, but the exhaustion takes hold quickly. The police tell me that Mary will be investigated, and it’s likely she’ll be convicted.

It helps, but it doesn’t bring Jennie back.

The police don’t finish at the house until gone four in the morning. I’m too exhausted to think straight, but I don’t go upstairs to bed. I make myself a cup of tea and sit quietly in the front room in Mum’s armchair.

Liv is asleep upstairs. I helped her up the steps and let her sleep in my bed. She needed somewhere comfier than the sofa to rest.

The house is quiet, but my mind is busy. Just like it always is.

Busy thinking about Mary and her infatuation with money right from the start. It destroyed our relationship, and now, it’s destroyed her life.

Mine too.

As I sit and sip my tea, I can’t help but wonder …

Was there ever one point two million pounds in that storage unit? Or did Dad find it and keep it all those years ago and hide it elsewhere?

I guess I’ll never know the truth.

It seems both Mum and Dad took their secrets to their graves.

THIRTY-EIGHT

MEL

Three months later

Liv and I grasp each other’s hands tightly as we walk along the gravel path through the middle of the graveyard. Liv still needs support on uneven ground, and I’m happy to provide it. We’ve been each other’s support in more ways than one over the past three months since my sister was arrested.

My whole life has changed. I’m not in prison, for one thing, and neither is Liv, which came as a surprise to everyone involved. Although Liv is having to do over two hundred hours of community service, both our cases have been closed.

We stop at Jennie’s grave, and I stoop to place a bouquet of flowers. In the end, William decided to have her buried here in her hometown. He is still living up north with the children and his parents and is doing well, but otherwise, we haven’t heard from him. I think it’s the best decision for everyone involved.

Liv’s parents stepped in and offered to pay for both of our lawyers. Liv and I promptly told them to fuck off and take their money elsewhere. I’m proud of how far Liv has come with regard to her parents. She now has her own place to live, not far from my new flat, and we both have jobs working for different woodwork and design companies. I’m more into the building and restoring side of things while Liv still prefers to be the person behind the screen, talking to prospective buyers and sellers. We’re both happy, stable and know we are very lucky to be in this position and not locked behind bars.

It’s all down to Isaac.

After Mary was arrested for criminal activities, financial fraud and murder, Isaac’s true dealings came to light. Isaac was a bent police officer. He wasn’t taking time off for his mental health to recover from a traumatic bust gone wrong at all. In fact, he was dismissed without notice for gross misconduct, but he still had a few close friends within the ranks who helped him along when he needed it, but his past didn’t stay buried for long.

Isaac had attacked a fellow officer six months ago and stole money from a live police investigation. He had a gambling addiction that had him up to his eyeballs in debt. Every penny he could steal, he stole, and it didn’t matter where it came from. There was even evidence that he’d stolen cash from a dead victim’s wallet at a crime scene and pocketed it.

His involvement was seen as a malicious intent to steal money, which he knew his father had all along because Mary told him about it. As they were cousins, she decided to use her family ties for her benefit. Plus, having a bent police officer on her payroll would have been useful for her. He was part of her loan shark initiative, conning people out of their money, increasing their interest rates and generally being a stain on society. They were working together the whole time.

Despite not telling the police about discovering the body, we were cleared of all major charges. I see it has a huge life-changing moment and take it as a sign to do better, be better and always be honest, no matter how hard life gets.

Liv and I have made a promise to each other to always be brave, do the right thing and tell each other everything. She was cleared of involuntary manslaughter, and due to the pressure she was under from Isaac, her involvement in his death was put down as self-defence. Her father admitted that he kept the rifle loaded, and Liv wouldn’t have had a clue as to how to check.

Liv sighs as we stand side by side, looking down at Jennie’s grave. ‘I wonder what Jennie would have to say about all of this.’

‘She’d probably say we’re a couple of lucky cow bags,’ I say with a giggle.

‘Yes, cow bags is definitely something Jennie would say,’ adds Liv with a head nod. ‘Despite everything that’s happened, I think she’d be proud of us. Right?’

I glance at Liv and smile. To be honest, I’m not sure Jennie would be proud of us, but I can’t bear to make Liv feel worse about herself than she already does. She struggles every day with the choices she’s made. As do I, but I know she’s been suffering more.

A month ago, she made the choice to see a professional about it and is now on medication to control her anxiety and depression over what happened. She went through several weeks of just crying and hating herself, telling me that she didn’t deserve to live because of what she’d done. She wanted to go to prison so she could suffer, but life doesn’t always work out the way we planned.

She’s getting better, but I know the weight of what she did pushes her down most days. I put my arm around her shoulders and squeeze.

‘She’d be proud of you,’ I lie.

I guess that means I’ve broken my promise to Liv already.

‘You know,’ says Liv, breaking the sadness and tension, ‘it’s a shame we never did find the one point two million pounds in that suitcase.’

‘If we did, then we’d have made the same decision. I mean, we lied about finding the body, and that was only over a hundred and five grand let alone over a million.’

‘It’s a lot of money,’ she says.

‘It sure is.’

‘I wonder if it’s true though. If your dad – your uncle Kevin – he ever did have that much money?’

I don’t reply. I just stare across the graveyard at the stones. How many of these people have taken secrets to their graves?

I get home an hour later after doing a food shop. As I push open the door, I misjudge the step and trip over it. My shoulder bag goes spiralling across the floor, and the contents go with it. I awkwardly bend down with my shopping bags and scoop everything into a heap.

I grab my empty bag and open it.

It feels heavy.

There’s something still inside, but when I reach my hand in, I don’t feel anything. Not until my fingers touch a hole in the lining of the bag do I realise that whatever it is has fallen through and got stuck inside the fabric lining.

Still crouching on the floor, surrounded by shopping bags, I dig around until I grasp the item and pull it out from its hiding place.

It’s my father’s watch. The gold Rolex that Liv took from his body and gave to me just before the police arrived to arrest us both in the Lake District.

I never handed it in. When I was questioned about it, I said it was mine, and that was that. It completely slipped my mind.

I smile as I turn it over in my hands, feeling the cool metal against my skin. It’s not much, but it’s the only thing I have from my real dad. It’s fake, so it’s not worth anything. I can’t bring myself to try to sell it, yet I can also do without the reminder of what he did for a living.

I head upstairs and put it in my jewellery box before sorting out the shopping and starting dinner. I put the radio on for some background noise and move around my small kitchen as I sauté onions and chop up some vegetables.

Sometimes it’s good to put the past behind us. Even though Kevin was my biological father, Malcolm was my dad. He raised me, taught me to read, to ride a bike. He tended to my scraped knees and pulled my sister and me apart when we fought.

As for Mary, it turns out that she inherited her father’s greed. I’m just glad I avoided the curse. Because nothing good ever comes from the power that money gives you.

Liv and I learned that lesson the hard way.

MISSING DIARY PAGE

… hear what they were saying.

I heard Kevin and Malcom talking.

‘All these years, you’ve thought you were better than me. You think just because Jane chose you that you’re the better man.’

‘I am the better man, Kevin,’ said Malcolm. ‘You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing behind my back? The money. The heists. All of it. It stops now. Do you hear me?’

‘One point two million pounds, Malcolm! How can you say no to that?’

‘Easily. I don’t want any part of it.’

I froze on the spot, holding my breath as I leaned closer to the door.

Then, Kevin said something to Malcolm that made my blood run cold.

‘Jane should have always been mine, but at least I can leave, safe in the knowledge that she’ll always choose me.’

‘And why would she do that? Jane doesn’t care about money. She never has.’

‘No, but she cares about her daughters. Or should I say … my daughters.’

No. No. No. No. No …

A loud crash sounded from behind the door.

How long has Kevin known the girls were his? Perhaps he’s always known.

‘Get out. Take your money and get the fuck out of my house.’

‘You’ve always known though, haven’t you, Malcolm? Somehow, you’ve always known that Jane and I have been seeing each other sporadically over the years, but you’ve turned a blind eye. Why? Why would you do that?’

Malcom didn’t answer. He started crying.

‘Get out! I never want to see you again.’

I covered my mouth with my hands as the door opened. Kevin walked out, almost bumping into me. I grabbed for his hand, feeling the gold watch he always wore around his wrist. ‘Kevin …’

‘Come with me, Jane. Please. Come with me. I have money. Lots of it. I can make a life for us, anywhere you want, away from everyone.’

I shook my head. ‘I … I can’t. Mary and Melanie.’

‘So it’s true. You’d choose everyone else over me?’

‘My girls. I can’t leave my girls.’

‘And Malcolm?’

My eyes watered. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s never been about money for me.’

Kevin pulled me into a tight hug and whispered in my ear, ‘If anything happens to me, I want you and the girls to be okay. It’s in the watch. There’s one point one million pounds hidden in an account, the details of which are on a microchip hidden inside my watch. The rest I have on me in cash.’

I stared at him, my eyes travelling to the gold fake Rolex on his wrist. What was he saying? If something happened to him … What was going to happen?

‘I have to go now, but I’ll let you know when I’m settled and safe. I just needed you to know where the money is … in case anything happens. You may say you don’t care, but I don’t believe it.’

‘What’s going to happen?’ I asked, my voice a harsh whisper.

Malcolm was in the office behind us.

Kevin shook his head. ‘I love you, Jane. Trust me. I’ll be back for you one day. I promise.’

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She thinks she’s safe. She couldn’t be more wrong.

Elle, desperate to escape her abusive home, runs away to a seemingly cute small town where she gets a job as a waitress. And meets Vera, who offers her an attic room in her large house.

For the first time in years, Elle feels something like contentment as she bonds with Vera who becomes almost like a mother to her. Blossoming, Elle slowly begins to piece her life back together, make new friends and stand on her own two feet.

But all is not as it seems.

Because this old house contains a dark secret. And much as she cares for Elle, Vera will do anything to protect it. That’s why she’s warned her young tenant that she must never, ever go down to the basement.

But Elle doesn’t obey this simple rule and when she sees what’s down there, she finally understands that her lovely new life is actually the gateway to a special kind of hell…

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PROLOGUE - 25th January 2004

Vera’s cheeks and forehead were on fire and sweat beaded on her upper lip. Her whole body was damp, the fever raging through her immune system, sending it into overdrive. She licked her cracked lips, summoning some much-needed moisture to her mouth, but it wasn’t enough. She picked up a nearby glass of tepid water and took a sip, her throat screaming at the action, but she was grateful for the small amount of relief it brought her mouth.

She hated being ill, even at the best of times, but it always sucked that little bit more when she was sick on her birthday, especially such an important one. Her mother always told her that when she turned sixteen she’d be a woman, no longer a little girl. Today was that day. And, to make her birthday even more special, she got to share it with her twin brother, Kevin, who she adored with all her heart and soul. He was her rock and the only person on earth who she could wholeheartedly say she loved. She wouldn’t survive without him. Usually, as twins, they shared most things, including illnesses, but Kevin had somehow managed to avoid catching the flu, the lucky bugger.

Vera had been in bed with the virus for almost two days on the advice of the local doctor, who told her that with rest and fluids she’d improve in no time. She just needed to allow her body to fight on its own, no antibiotics would help. For as long as she could remember, on their birthday every year, she and Kevin would go for a long walk, no matter the weather. Then, they might stop in the village and grab a soft drink from the pub or maybe a bar of chocolate to share from the corner shop. But her illness had cancelled those plans this year, and an aching sense of guilt made her feel even worse. She’d been hoping she would feel better by now so she and Kevin could celebrate together, even if they had to skip the long walk, but she’d been locked in her room the whole day and it was almost midnight now. Spending their birthday together made it a special occasion, because they didn’t have any friends around here since their parents had taken them out of school almost a year ago and decided to home-school them – although that implied their parents had an interest in their education. They didn’t. Their home-schooling involved cleaning and chores. Their parents’ reasoning had been that there wasn’t anything they could learn in school that they couldn’t teach the kids themselves.

Her temperature was still high, but a steady stream of paracetamol four hours apart ensured it didn’t climb any higher. It had gotten bad, though. At least she was no longer hallucinating and seeing swirling patterns on the walls. Last night, she could have sworn a huge demon visited her while she slept. It may have been her father. She wasn’t sure.

Despite the frigid January temperatures outside, the window next to her bed was open to allow the air to circulate. Vera’s body kept switching from being too hot to too cold. One minute, her teeth were chattering and the next she was pulling off her layers, fearing she’d self-combust.

She laid back against her sweaty pillows and listened to the rain outside. It was getting late, which meant her birthday was almost at an end. She could hear her parents moving around downstairs getting ready for bed. Her father was drunk again, and her mother was shouting at him. Things never changed in this house, even though she prayed every night that they would. Her father continued to drink and take out his frustration on her and Kevin, and her mother continued to ignore what was happening, telling them it was their fault for being such ungrateful children.

They lived in a beautiful house, in a beautiful village, in a beautiful area of the Cotswolds. Her father worked a decent job in Gloucester, earning enough money for them to get by comfortably. But Vera and Kevin often went without food and new clothes because almost every penny earned went into his drinking and the upkeep of this house. They weren’t considered a priority in their father’s eyes. And in the community, he wasn’t a well-liked man, he was often rude to people and always on the verge of being drunk.

A quiet knock at the door made her look up. It was too gentle to be either of her parents, so it could only be one person.

‘Come in,’ she said with a weak croak and then coughed.

The door opened and Kevin poked his head around the side. ‘Dad’s on one again. Can I hide out here for a bit?’

‘Sure,’ said Vera with a smile. She pulled her legs up so he could sit at the end of her bed. Kevin had shaggy hair, something Vera always teased him about, but it suited his face, which was looking more grown up every day. They used to be the same height, but in the past year Kevin had shot up. He hadn’t yet filled out, so he was a skinny lad with a deep voice. It freaked her out sometimes.

‘It’s freezing in here,’ he said, rubbing his arms up and down. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘A bit better, I guess.’

‘You hungry?’

‘Not really.’

‘Good, ’cause there’s nothing much for dinner anyway. I uh … got you something.’ Kevin pulled a small bracelet out of his pocket and handed it to Vera. It was silver and had one small charm attached: a key.

‘Thank you. It’s so lovely. I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything.’ They’d never swapped gifts before as they’d both agreed they didn’t want or need anything except each other.

‘It’s okay.’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘That doesn’t matter. Do you like it?’

‘I love it. Thank you.’ Vera slipped it on her delicate wrist and turned it from left to right, watching as the dim light from above made it sparkle.

‘Will you promise me something, Kevin?’ asked Vera, keeping her voice low.

‘Yes, anything.’

‘Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other. We’ll always look out for each other. We’ll always protect each other. No matter what.’

Kevin’s eyes grew dark and he lowered his gaze to the bed, studying the design of her bedspread. Had she said something wrong? Granted, she probably loved him more than he loved her, but she always thought he’d have her back.

Eventually, Kevin nodded slowly. ‘I promise. You and me forever. Now, hurry up and get better. I’m bored of Mum asking when you’ll be well enough to clean again.’ Kevin got off the bed and moved towards the door. Vera could tell he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t get the chance.

The door swung open and slammed against the wall, only missing Kevin’s face by a couple of inches. He jumped back and hid out of sight in the corner behind the door as his father stormed into the room, eyes blazing and fists clenched.

‘Where is it?’ he demanded.

Vera pulled the sheets further up to her chin. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The bracelet I gave your mother is missing. Where is it?’

Vera’s mouth turned to dust. She quickly slid her left hand under the sheet. ‘I haven’t seen it.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he said with a hiss. He stomped further into the room. ‘It stinks in here, girl. Have you even had a shower since you’ve been lying in your own filth? And I pay good money to heat this fucking house. The least you could do is keep the windows shut!’ He pulled the window closed with such force that the picture hanging on the wall above Vera’s head fell.

She shrieked as it hit her, raising both arms above her head in defence. She knew it was the wrong move as her father leapt towards her and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it so tight she thought it might snap in half.

But she didn’t make a sound.

‘Thief! You stole it!’

‘No! I didn’t … I didn’t …’

‘Don’t lie to me!’ With his other hand, he slapped her across the face. The noise his open palm made against her cheek sounded like a gunshot in her head. The room spun as her vision distorted and she fought against the urge to slip into darkness.

Vera opened her eyes and saw Kevin cowering in the corner behind the door, shaking his head. She didn’t blame him. If he got involved, then he’d be beaten too. They’d both learned to stay put and not make a sound when the other was beaten. It wasn’t worth them both taking their father’s brute force.

Her father hit her again. And again.

His fists pummelled into her weak body like he was tenderising a piece of meat. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She’d been hit before, many times, but this was the worst yet.

She must have blacked out at some point.

Time seemed to skip ahead.

When she next opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of her room, surrounded by silence and darkness. Her head pounded and her body was drenched in sweat, her nightgown practically soaked. The sweat ran off her forehead and into her eyes. She could barely see.

A light was on in the hall.

‘Kevin?’ she called out. ‘Kevin, what’s happened?’

Nothing made sense.

She stepped forward but stopped when her bare toes touched something wet and slippery. Before she could steady herself, her feet slid out from underneath her and she landed with a hard thump on her bottom. Her hands shot out to the sides. When she brought them up in front of her, they were covered in a dark viscous liquid.

‘Kevin?’

Her heart rate doubled as she scrambled to her feet, but the pool of what she now knew to be blood on the floor made it difficult to grip. She crawled towards the door, her knees getting tangled up in her nightgown. When she reached the landing, she saw bloody streaks in the carpet, as if someone had dragged something heavy along the floor.

Her vision swam in and out of focus. The house was quiet; all she could hear was her own racing heart, which pounded like a drum in her ears.

‘Kevin!’ Her throat felt like it was being ripped to shreds by barbed wire.

No one answered.

The house kept its silence.

CHAPTER 1 - Elle, 24th January 2024

I don’t feel safe in my own home. It’s always been that way for me, ever since I can remember. The only place in the house where I feel as if I can breathe without suffocating is down in the damp, dark basement, even though it smells musty and has an enormous hairy spider living in the far corner. It’s so big, it could easily overpower and kill a mouse if it needed to. I call it Trevor. I’m not sure how he got to be so big.

I’ve created a safe corner in the basement, behind a moveable shelving unit. I can pull it out from the wall and squeeze myself into the gap. It’s where I always hide when my dad threatens to come after me. He doesn’t know about my hiding place because he very rarely comes down here. When I was a child, I could fit behind the shelves easily, but now I’m bigger, a teenager, it’s harder to do and there’s much less space than there used to be. I’ve always been slim. No boobs, no hips, just straight up and down like a pole. It’s my long legs and arms that have trouble fitting properly. I’m a bit gangling and awkward, almost as if my limbs are too long for my body.

That’s where I am now. In my safe space.

My hair falls across my face like black curtains, so I blow it away and it moves like spindly cobwebs and then I twirl it around my fingers over and over. It’s a habit I’ve had for a long time, so I have a lot of short strands of hair and split ends where I keep pulling it out. I’m not sure what it is about the repetitive movement, but it soothes me. Hearing that snap as a strand breaks is addictive and oddly enjoyable. Most of the time I don’t even know I’m doing it. Not until my dad shouts at me to stop fiddling with my hair, or my mum moans at me that all my hair will fall out and I’ll end up with a bald spot. But, after a few minutes, I go right back to playing with it.

I listen to the faint sounds above me. It’s a Saturday and my dad usually works all day, leaving me to have some time to myself. But today he has a day off and is spending it in front of the television watching rugby, but since his team is losing, he’s on the rampage and keeps throwing things, so I thought it best I stay out of his way, rather than be swept up in his rage and get hit on the head by a flying beer bottle. I’ve brought a book down here and I have the light from my phone, but I don’t feel like reading now. Sometimes I like to sit in silence and listen to the various sounds around me. It’s amazing how loud the house is when I take the time to listen. The basement especially seems to have a life of its own. Creaks and groans echo from all four corners and sometimes, if I listen hard enough, I can hear Trevor scurrying across the floor. It’s nice to have his company. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but at least I’m not alone down here. Sometimes I hide for hours at a time. Once, I hid in the basement for almost twenty-four hours, only finally coming upstairs when I needed a wee. I’d taken food and water down with me but forgotten about a bucket.

I’m counting the days till my eighteenth birthday. I still have a long way to go – two hundred and sixteen days – but once I’m eighteen, I can legally leave home and never have to see my parents again. I’d miss my mum, I suppose, but it’s a small price to pay to be free from my dad.

I was seven the first time he hit me and, for the past decade of my life, I’ve been living with his abuse. It’s not every day. Some days he’s even a decent dad and takes me out to places to buy things like make-up and clothes, but then he laughs at me and says that make-up makes me look like a whore and my clothes make me look like a slut. What’s wrong with a crop top and leggings? My mum says I look gorgeous, no matter what I wear. She tells me to make the most of my young, blemish-free skin while I can because soon the lines and wrinkles will appear and age will start to creep up behind me, and then I’ll be chasing that youthful look for the rest of my life.

I want to be a fashion designer when I grow up, but my dad won’t let me go to college or university. He says I need to get a real job instead, but the only job I can get around here is stacking shelves or working behind a bar, which I’m not legally allowed to do yet. I’m fed up with being trapped in this house. My dad controls my whole life. He even monitors my phone, and I don’t have access to Wi-Fi unless I ask him, and he can switch it off whenever he wants. I don’t use my phone a lot anyway. I don’t have any friends, not since Sarah moved away last year. I miss her. We haven’t spoken since she left. She promised me we’d speak every day and never lose touch, but she lied. She never messaged me back when I asked her how she was getting on in her new school.

I finished school last year, but I didn’t get very good grades. My dad says they weren’t good enough for me to be accepted to college or university, so I may as well stay here with him and Mum. But that’s not my plan. I plan to leave as soon as I’m legally able to. Mum will be okay without me. She gets hit sometimes too, but if she cooks and cleans for him, he leaves her alone. Whereas I like to argue back. It’s my downfall, Mum says. I should just keep quiet and agree with him, but my rebellious teenage side is too strong to ignore.

‘Elle!’ My dad’s voice booms above me, sending small cascades of dust down on my head as he stomps up and down across the floor.

‘Stay quiet, Trevor,’ I say, pushing my finger against my mouth. ‘Shhh!’ Trevor doesn’t answer. He never does.

‘Elle! Where’s that fucking girl?’

Every muscle in my body screams at me to stay as still and quiet as possible, but my brain is telling me the longer I hide, the worse the beating will be when he finally finds me. If I come out now, maybe it won’t be so bad.

I wait two more minutes before crawling out from behind the shelves and dusting myself down. A few of Trevor’s webs tickle my face, so I wipe them away. I wish I could be a spider and live down here in the dark, spinning webs all day, instead of going upstairs and facing the daylight and the mind-numbing dread that something bad will happen.

As soon as my feet touch the top step of the basement, the door is yanked open and my dad glares at me, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. Not good.

‘What were you doing down there?’

‘Looking for something.’

My dad narrows his eyes before lunging forwards and grabbing my left arm. He pulls me with so much force that I lose my balance and stumble against his hard chest. He’s like a brick wall. He hits like one too.

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he says through gritted teeth.

‘I … I wasn’t …’

Smack!

His open palm slaps across my left cheek. It immediately burns, and tears spring to my eyes. I always try not to react because it only spurs him on, but sometimes it really hurts and tears come whether I want them to or not.

‘You make me sick,’ he says. He spits at me, and the warm thick mucus hits the side of my face. I wipe it away. ‘You should be fucking grateful that you’ve got a roof over your head, girl. I work hard for this family and you can’t even come when I call you. I have to search the whole fucking house for you.’

‘I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t hear you down there.’ My voice is a low whimper when really all I want to do is scream at him and spit back in return.

‘Whatever,’ he mutters. ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘At work, I think.’

He snarls in disgust. ‘It’s mental to think of that woman working. The only thing she’s good for is cooking and cleaning, and the same goes for you.’

My dad is the ultimate sexist pig. It’s like he’s stuck in the 1950s. He thinks all women should stay home and look after their men. This is wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know where to begin. The one time I told him this, I was locked in my room for three days, only being given water and bread once a day. I had to use my wastepaper basket as a toilet. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, one I never want to repeat, so now I continue to keep my mouth shut.

‘Well, since she’s not here, you best get lunch started.’ He turns and walks back towards the lounge where the television is blaring away. ‘Oh, and get me a beer from the fridge.’

I head into the kitchen. It’s fairly clean because Mum tidied it before she left for work this morning. I’m envious of her because she gets to escape this house for a few hours at a time and I don’t. I miss school. I didn’t get good grades, but that’s because I purposefully struggled so that I had to stay behind and do extra homework. In hindsight, I should have done better and then maybe I could have secretly applied to colleges and universities, but all I could think about at the time was spending as much time away from this house as possible. I didn’t think about what bad grades would do to my future career.

Now, I’m stuck here with no prospects, no way of earning money, and am doomed to become my dad’s slave when my mum inevitably leaves him, or he kills her by pushing her down the stairs. That’s why I’m counting the days till my eighteenth birthday. I just hope I make it that far.

I open the fridge and grab the last bottle of beer. While walking to the lounge to deliver the bottle, I keep my head down, wishing I was invisible. I hold it out to him, but he just stares at me with a blank stare.

‘How am I supposed to drink that?’

I forgot to open it for him.

Without saying a word, I return to the kitchen and search for the bottle opener. It’s usually in the drawer beside the fridge, but it’s not there. Maybe he has it on the table next to him, but I dare not go back and ask, so I try and open it using the side of the worktop. I use the sharp edge of the cap and wedge it into the wood, then with one sharp tap, I knock my palm against it. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I try again anyway.

The bottle slips from my hand as the cap pops off. I freeze on the spot, knowing that the shit is about to hit the fan. Cold, frothy beer soaks into my socks but I barely feel it. All I feel is the tingling of fear as it creeps up my spine and into my brain. My brain is telling me one thing – to run – but my muscles won’t respond.

My dad barrels into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything. He simply lunges at me with his fists clenched.

‘Dad, I’m sorry!’ But there’s no point in even trying to beg for forgiveness. I raise my arms as a shield and take the hit and the next one, and the next, until I collapse into the beer and shattered glass on the floor. I don’t even feel the pain, but I do smell the pungent aroma of beer. It’s all I can do to not gag. I’ve always hated the smell.

‘Clean this up, then go and get me another six bottles. You have fifteen minutes.’

Tears mix with the beer which splashed against my face when I fell into the puddle. Slivers of glass embed themselves into every available area of my bare skin, my hands and ankles mainly. But the sting of pain is nothing compared to the sheer explosion of hatred and anger coursing through my veins.

It’s not directed at my dad. It’s directed at me.

Why am I putting up with this abuse day in and day out? I don’t deserve it. I’m a good kid. I do as I’m told for the most part. I don’t take drugs and I don’t drink alcohol. I’m still a virgin. Sort of. I don’t deserve to be treated like a slave by my dad, who never deserved to have a daughter in the first place.

Mum told me once that I was an accident. After she spent a few days freaking out, she eventually decided that she wanted to keep me, but my dad wanted her to have an abortion. Figures. People should have to take some sort of test before they’re allowed to have and raise children, because my dad definitely would have failed that test. He should never have been a father. I think he is the way he is because of his own dad. He doesn’t talk about him much, but the few snippets of information he has let slip tell me that his dad wasn’t a nice man. Like father like son, I suppose.

I slowly stand up, avoiding stepping on any more shards and fetch a dustpan and brush from the side cupboard and begin to sweep up the broken glass. Then I mop up the beer using kitchen towels because I can’t find the mop and bucket. As I walk over the tiles, my socks cling to the sticky substance that’s now drying on the floor.

I leave it and head upstairs, not even bothering with a shower. I’ve made up my mind. I know where Dad keeps his spare cash. He thinks I don’t know that he squirrels cash away from my mum. Between the pair of them, I’m surprised they can even afford food for the table and a roof over our heads with the amount they fritter away on pointless things. I grab the whole wad of cash, not bothering to count it, then head to my room and begin shoving some clothes into my backpack. It was a gift from my mum on my first day of school. Back then, it swamped my small frame, but now it snuggles against my back perfectly. It’s a little frayed and damaged in places and there’s still a dark red stain from when a pen leaked ink inside it, which makes it look like blood, but it’s the one thing I use every single day. I take it everywhere with me, and now it’s about to carry everything I have in the world to wherever I’m about to go.

I can’t stay in this house another minute. If I don’t leave now, I might say or do something I regret and then my dad will take it too far. I’ve ended up in hospital twice before, lucky to have survived his beatings. Mum told the doctors and nurses that I’d fallen down the stairs and they believed her. No one has ever checked up on me. Not even my teachers when they see me with a black eye.

I’m fed up with being invisible.

My dad is back in his armchair. I don’t even stop and look back at the house as I storm down the front path. My feet turn instinctively in the direction of the town centre. There’s a bus station there. I have everything I need in my bag, including a fake ID that my friend Sarah got for me a year ago as a leaving gift. Apparently, her brother knew a guy who knew a guy. I didn’t ask any questions. I haven’t even used it yet. Until now, I’ve had no use for a fake ID, not being a drinker. The name on the ID is Eleanor Spencer, but my real name is Elle Walter. Elle isn’t short for anything. It’s just Elle.

I stroll past the shop where Dad buys his beer, and my brain starts doing that annoying thing and imagining how mad he will be when I don’t come home. Then I start to laugh, even as the heavens open and the rain soaks into my hair. I pull up the hood of my rain jacket which I’d remembered to grab on the way out and approach the lady at the bus station tills.

‘Where to?’ she asks me.

I stare up at the departures board, searching for a town I recognise. ‘Can I just have a minute?’

‘Sure. Can you step to the side please so I can serve the next person?’

I take two steps to the left. This is silly. I can’t do this. I can’t run away from home. What the hell makes me think I can survive on my own with only a handful of cash, a fake ID and the clothes in my backpack? Then I catch my reflection in the window next to me.

The left side of my pale face is swollen, my hair is still sticky from the beer I rolled about in and there are scratches across my cheeks from glass slivers. All this because my father beat me. All this because I accidentally broke his last beer bottle.

‘No more,’ I say to the reflection.

I look back to the departures board and see the name Barrow-on-the-Water and a flicker of recognition ignites in my brain. Wasn’t that where Sarah moved to?

I’m pretty sure it is. I remember her telling me it was considered the most beautiful village in the Cotswolds. It might be a good place to start. I just need somewhere to lay low for a while, a few weeks or maybe months while I get some more money together. I need a job, a place to stay and maybe someone who won’t treat me like something they scraped off the bottom of their shoe.

I need somewhere my dad won’t look for me. I’ve never mentioned the village to him, even when Sarah moved away, so there’s no reason he’d look for me there. I know Sarah has never messaged me back, but I’m sure once I get there, I can track her down. It can’t be a big village.

It’s the only plan I have, and I’m going for it.

I turn to the bus ticketer. ‘One ticket to Barrow-on-the-Water, please.’

I’m on my way to freedom and a brand-new life.

Get Don’t Tell a Soul now.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jessica Huntley is an author of dark and twisty psychological thrillers, which often focus on mental health topics and delve deep into the minds of her characters. She has a varied career background, having joined the Army as an Intelligence Analyst, then left to become a Personal Trainer. She is now living her life-long dream of writing from the comfort of her home, while looking after her young son and her disabled black Labrador. She enjoys keeping fit and drinking wine (not at the same time).

www.jessicahuntleyauthor.com

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ALSO BY JESSICA HUNTLEY

Inkubator Books Titles

Don’t Tell a Soul

Under Her Skin

The Good Parents

I Will Find You

Pretty Little Lies

Finders Keepers

Other Titles

The Darkness Series

The Darkness Within Ourselves

The Darkness That Binds Us

The Darkness That Came Before

The My...Self Series

My Bad Self: A Prequel Novella

My Dark Self

My True Self

My Real Self

Standalones

Jinx

How to Commit the Perfect Murder in Ten Easy Steps

Horrible Husbands

Room 21

The Murder Maze

The Hanging Tree

Collaborations

The Summoning

HorrorScope: A Zodiac Anthology – Vol 1

Bloody Hell: An Anthology of UK Indie Horror