TOYF

Title Page

Prologue

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

The One You Fear

Paul Pilkington

Copyright 2012 Paul Pilkington

UK English Edition

www.paulpilkington.com

Cover Design: Jeanine Henning

www.jeaninehenning.com

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Also by Paul Pilkington and available on Kindle

The One You Love

Someone to Save You

View here at the Kindle Store

For those who asked for more. And for my wonderful family.

Prologue

Margaret Myers held the remote control tightly in her hand and pointed it towards the sleeping television. She pressed the stand-by button and the box sprang to life, illuminating the otherwise dark lounge. She watched, transfixed and scared, as the images played out in front of her. A policewoman, arms and legs pounding, was running down a rain-sodden street, giving chase to a man. She looked just like that girl – the one who had ruined it all with her wicked ways. The programme frightened Margaret. Programmes like that gave you funny ideas.

Two weeks ago the television had spoken to her.

It told her that she should end it all.

Margaret Myers changed channel, her hand shaking like a jackhammer. The lottery draw – this was better. She didn’t like the police programmes; didn’t like them at all.

She remembered the time when the whole family would sit down in front of the television on a Saturday night and watch the quiz shows, their dinners on their laps – herself, her husband Peter, and her dear Stephen. Back then everything was good.

But that was then, and this was now.

A man and woman had visited and told her that Peter had been arrested. He’d done something wrong. She couldn’t remember what. They wanted her to come with them, to spend some time resting in the same place they had taken her to a few weeks ago – the hospital that was full of disturbed people.

She hadn’t been fooled by their weasel words and plastic smiles. This time she wasn’t going anywhere. They thought she was stupid, or crazy, or both. But she knew what they were up to. They had taken her son and her husband, but they wouldn’t take her.

The draw was starting. She leaned forward in anticipation as the arms in the machine kicked up the balls, before sucking one up through the plastic tube and spitting it out down the chute.

And the first ball is… number twelve.

She caught her breath. Number twelve. Stephen had been born on the twelfth of December.

Again a ball was sucked up the tube.

And the second ball is… number twelve.

She blinked, shaking her head. It was a mistake. Someone had placed a duplicate ball in the machine. Why hadn’t people noticed?

And the third ball is… number twelve.

‘No, no, no, it’s not right, it can’t be.’

She jabbed at the controller, blackening the screen and sending the room back into darkness. For a few seconds she just sat there in the pitch black, breathing heavily, her hands curling into tight fists.

And then a noise – was it someone at the door?

At first she didn’t move, but just sat there in the darkness. Would somebody be calling at such a late hour? Maybe it had been her imagination.

But there was a definite knock this time.

Margaret Myers rose from the sofa and moved into the corridor, edging slowly towards the front door.

‘Hello. Who’s there?’ There was no answer. She grasped the door handle – but then she stopped herself. Maybe they had returned for her, to take her away to their place, and evict her forever from the family home.

They thought they were so clever.

‘Go away; I’m not coming with you. Leave me alone.’

Something was pushed through the letterbox. It fell onto the carpet, and she bent to pick it up.

It couldn’t be –?

She cradled the object in her hand, tears swelling in her eyes. ‘It can’t be.’

Then she grabbed the door and pulled it open.

‘It’s you,’ she said, breaking into a broad smile. ‘It’s really you.’ She threw her arms around him. ‘They said you were dead, but I always knew you’d come back to me.’

One week later

PART ONE

1

Emma Holden woke in a sweat, her head damp against the pillow. At first she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered. She was in a luxury apartment a few miles outside the small Cornish seaside town of St. Ives, down in the far south-west of England. Dan had surprised her with the news that they were going away for a few days, from Friday until Tuesday. They’d both needed to get away from London for a while, just four weeks after the terrible events of Dan’s kidnap at the hands of Peter Myers. It had felt so claustrophobic in the capital, surrounded by all the raw, painful memories, so Emma was overjoyed at the chance to escape for a few days and release some of that pressure.

‘Are you awake, Dan?’

There was no reply. She reached across the double bed but Dan wasn’t there – the covers had been pulled back and, raising her head off the pillow, she saw that the bedroom door was ajar. She sat up and only then remembered the nightmare. It had been the same dream again, the third time in two weeks. Again it was her wedding. She and Dan were standing at the front of the congregation, filled with excitement and love. For a split second she turned away, and when she looked back, it was Stuart Harris next to her, smiling warmly. The service continued and when they reached the vows, first Stuart’s voice and then his face began to change. Suddenly it was Stephen Myers beside her. He looked older, but still had the same vacant stare and delusional smile. The priest announced, ‘You may now kiss the bride’ and Stephen Myers lunged at her, thrusting his mouth towards hers as she tried to fight him off.

Each time she had woken at that very same moment.

She got out of bed, went into the hallway and through into the main kitchen and living room. It was certainly an amazing apartment. The kitchen was full of top spec appliances, all of which were new – washing machine, dishwasher, oven, and espresso maker – which, by the smell of it, had just been used. The manager, who owned the majority of the apartments in the block, had met them on their arrival the previous day and explained that they had a refit in the spring.

Bright early-morning late-September sunlight was streaming through the patio doors at the far end. Dan was sitting outside on the small decking area, staring out to sea and over towards the town of St. Ives to the west. On the table in front of him was the freshly made coffee.

Dan didn’t seem to notice Emma’s approach – he was still staring into the distance as she reached him. ‘Morning,’ she said, taking the seat next to him. She noticed there were two cups of coffee on the table.

Dan smiled at her. ‘I woke up early and thought I’d try out our new machine.’ He gestured towards the cups.

‘I’m impressed,’ Emma said.

‘You haven’t tasted it yet,’ he joked.

‘Well, it looks great.’

‘Actually it tastes great too, but I’ve got to admit, it was my second attempt. The first time I burned it. It was revolting so it went straight down the sink.’

‘Then top marks for perseverance,’ Emma quipped, taking a sip. ‘Lovely.’

‘It’s such an amazing view,’ Dan said, as they both looked out across the sea. A small fishing vessel was making its way from St. Ives towards open water. It looked so fragile, bobbing up and down on the waves like a toy. Even though it was a spectacularly sunny morning with a flawless blue sky, there was a keen wind whipping up the water into white tips.

Emma stole a glance at Dan; his short, dark brown hair was messy from sleep in the way that she always found so endearing. He still didn’t look himself. He had been injured physically during his time in captivity, but nothing too serious – mainly bruising, which had now healed. But mentally – well, Emma wasn’t sure. He hadn’t opened up yet about what had happened during those days at the hands of Peter Myers, or about how it had affected him. And although she was desperate to understand, so she could help, Emma didn’t want to press him. He needed to be ready to talk.

‘I’m worried about you,’ she said, not really intending to vocalise those thoughts.

Dan smiled sadly, as if he knew what she was talking about. ‘I’m okay, Em. It’s just going to take time to get over it all.’

Emma nodded. They were all finding it difficult. ‘You know, if you want to talk about it, if you think it would help, I’m always here for you.’

‘I know.’ Dan took her hand. ‘Come here.’

Emma snuggled into his side, as he placed a comforting arm around her. She closed her eyes, enjoying the brightness of the sun and the warmth of his body. ‘I was so scared. I thought I might never see you again.’

Dan held her tighter. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.’

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being close to one another. There hadn’t been much physical contact in the past month, but it wasn’t surprising, after all everyone had gone through.

‘How did you sleep?’ Dan asked. ‘You were tossing and turning a little.’

Emma raised her head off his chest. ‘Is that what woke you up?’

‘No. I was thinking about Peter Myers.’

She sat upright. ‘Really? What about him?’

‘I was wondering how he is.’

His admission came as a shock. They’d hardly spoken that man’s name since being reunited. ‘You’re concerned about him?’

‘Maybe,’ Dan replied. ‘I don’t know. I know what he did was a terrible act, but at the heart of it, he’s a victim too.’

‘Because of what happened to Stephen?’

Dan nodded, taking a sip of coffee. ‘Who knows how you’d react if you found out that your son or daughter had been murdered? Maybe you’d want to take revenge too. Maybe the anger would twist your morals, lead you to doing something you wouldn’t normally contemplate.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I know it sounds crazy, feeling empathy for him – the man nearly killed Richard – but I can see how he might have got to where he is now.’

‘I don’t think it sounds crazy.’

‘He’ll probably go to prison for many years.’

Peter Myers had been charged with a litany of offences, including kidnapping and grievous bodily harm. He’d pleaded guilty to all charges, and had been remanded in custody, pending sentencing. There was little doubt that he would spend a long time behind bars for what he’d done. The sentence would surely have been longer if Richard hadn’t survived – he was currently up in Edinburgh, staying with friends and continuing his recovery and recuperation.

‘You think he does deserve it, though?’ Emma said.

‘Oh, yes, of course I do. He deserves to go to jail for what he did.’

Emma breathed an inward sigh of relief. Although she could certainly see where Dan was coming from, it was still uncomfortable hearing him say supportive things about Peter Myers. It reminded her of so-called Stockholm syndrome, where captives began to empathise with and even support their captors.

‘Anyway, you didn’t answer my original question,’ Dan added. ‘About how you slept. I’m worried about you, too, you know.’

‘I had another nightmare,’ Emma revealed.

Dan looked concerned. ‘About Stephen Myers?’

Emma nodded. ‘It was the same dream, the wedding.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dan said.

‘Why are you apologising? It’s not your fault.’

‘Maybe it is.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, it was my idea to postpone the wedding for a few months. Maybe that’s why you keep dreaming about it.’

‘It was for the best,’ Emma replied. ‘We agreed.’

‘I know, but I wonder whether I pushed you into it. Maybe we should have just gone ahead and got married as soon as we could.’

Emma shook her head. ‘No. It was the right thing to do. Yes, of course I want to be married to you, right now. That’s how it was supposed to be. But I want it to be right, Dan. I didn’t want to get married when there are still all these things going on. Richard is still recuperating, Dad is worried sick about the court case, and the rest of us – you, me, Will and Lizzy – we’re all still coming to terms with what happened. That’s not a good time to get married, is it?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Dan agreed. ‘But I am worried about you, Em. These dreams about Stephen Myers, I don’t like them at all. It’s like he’s back, stalking you.’

‘He’s dead,’ Emma stated. ‘It’s my imagination, that’s all.’

‘Like yesterday at the services?’

Emma nodded. En route to Cornwall they had stopped at services in Exeter to grab some lunch and stretch their legs. The place had been packed with tourists, many of whom were heading for Cornwall to enjoy the Indian summer England had been basking in. After a disappointing July and August, temperatures in September had climbed to the mid-seventies. The car park was filled with all manner of vehicles, loaded with surfboards, walking gear, and camping equipment. It was as she exited the toilets that Emma saw the man. He was standing with his back to her, on the other side of the atrium, near the slot machines. And then he had turned one hundred and eighty degrees, and appeared to look straight at her. She caught her breath at the sight of his face.

It was Stephen Myers.

Except it wasn’t. Because Stephen Myers was dead.

Instinctively she had looked away, for a split second. When she turned back, he had gone.

‘It did shake me up,’ Emma said.

Of course, she knew that it had just been her mind playing tricks on her. The person had looked like Stephen Myers, or how she remembered him. But it felt as if, for that moment, he had been there, living and breathing. Not dead, but alive.

‘I can imagine,’ Dan replied. ‘I’m glad you told me about it.’

Emma had considered not doing so, but Dan had spotted straight away that something was wrong. And it had helped to talk things through. It hadn’t been the first time she thought she’d seen Stephen Myers. A week earlier, while out shopping with Lizzy on Oxford Street, a man had brushed past her in a department store. She’d caught only the briefest of glimpses and, as at the services, her initial reaction had been that it was him. But of course it couldn’t have been.

She exhaled. ‘I’m starting to think I’m going mad.’

‘It’s just a natural reaction to an amazingly stressful situation,’ Dan said. ‘You’re not crazy.’

‘Hopefully not. I think it’s just all been getting too much. That’s why this holiday was such a great idea – it gives us a chance to really get away from everything and clear our heads.’

‘Definitely,’ Dan agreed. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t talk about any of this while we’re here. Just pretend that it never happened, and enjoy the next few days.’

Emma smiled. ‘As man and wife?’

‘Why not? Mr and Mrs Carlton, on their honeymoon.’

‘Sounds like a fantastic idea.’

‘It’s because it is,’ Dan said.

‘So what’s the plan for today, Mr Carlton?’

‘Well, Mrs Carlton. Shall we go over there?’ he said, pointing towards St. Ives. ‘I’ve heard there are some seriously good places to eat, drink, and shop.’

‘Sounds great,’ Emma said, planting a kiss on Dan’s cheek.

***

Dan sat back in the chair and finished the coffee, which by now was cold. Emma had gone to shower, and he’d promised to prepare breakfast. But he felt paralysed, unable to banish the worries from his mind. Looking out at the sparkling seascape he searched for some release.

He should tell her.

He wanted to tell her.

To admit to her what he feared the most.

2

Miranda was making breakfast when she heard Edward’s raised voice echoing across the house from the study. At first she tried to ignore it, concentrating on preparing the food – a continental platter of croissants and other delights. But after a couple of minutes, she moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs. By the time she reached the closed study door, he had quietened down again. She knocked. It was the only room in the house, apart from the bathroom, of course, in which she felt such formality was needed. Edward’s study was his bolthole, and Miranda knew he didn’t welcome intrusions, least of all unannounced ones.

‘Come in.’

He was sitting at his desk, clutching his mobile phone. Miranda tried a smile, but he didn’t return it. She couldn’t remember the last time he had been happy. ‘Are you okay?’

Edward nodded, although he looked anything but.

She moved towards him and cupped a hand around his shoulder. ‘Were you shouting on the phone?’

‘A little,’ he said, looking down to his right.

‘With a client?’

Edward snorted. ‘An ex-client.’

‘Oh.’

He looked up. ‘Oh indeed.’

‘That’s the…’

‘Third client to leave me in two weeks,’ he finished, placing the mobile phone down on the desk. ‘That was Clive Monroe. Fifteen years I’ve been doing his books.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Oh, same old story – really sorry, but times are hard, gone with an accountancy firm that was offering an introductory deal.’

‘Maybe that’s the truth.’

Edward shook his head. ‘Funny how people don’t want to be associated with someone who has been charged with possessing an unlicensed gun and inflicting grievous bodily harm.’

‘It could be a coincidence.’

‘Miranda, I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it really is so bloody obvious, isn’t it?’

She didn’t know what to say to that. He was right; it was obvious. Since the news had come out that Edward had been charged – his appearance at the Magistrates’ Court had been reported in the newspaper – he had been fighting a constant battle to hold onto his clients. Many had wobbled but had been convinced to stay (for now), but the danger was clear. His accountancy business relied on his character as much as, if not more, than his accounting skills. And what had happened had blown a hole in how people once viewed him.

‘I’m worried about you, Edward.’

He stood up, shrugging off her hold, and paced to the window. ‘You should be worried about yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

He turned around. ‘You should be worried about how you and the baby are going to survive when I’m either in prison, bankrupt, or both.’

‘Edward, don’t, it won’t come to that.’

‘Won’t it? I could go to jail for what I did.’

‘But there were mitigating circumstances,’ Miranda protested. ‘Your lawyer said that, didn’t he? You were under extreme stress. You weren’t thinking straight. It was totally out of character – anyone can see that.’

‘I am guilty though. I pleaded guilty, stood up there in front of the magistrate and admitted it. So I’ll be punished by the court, just like I’m being punished by my clients.’

‘But the mitigating circumstances, they’ll take those into account.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe they’ll decide to make an example of me.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You don’t know!’ Edward shouted. He checked himself as Miranda shrank back, seeming almost physically wounded by his actions. ‘I’m sorry, Miranda, really sorry. I didn’t mean to shout, it’s just…’

‘It’s just that you’re shutting me out, as usual,’ Miranda said. ‘You’re trying to deal with this on your own, and cutting me off. You lock yourself away for hours at a time in this room, you don’t talk to me about things when you do come out, and the only things I get to know are snippets I overhear from your shouting matches with clients. Well, Edward, I’m sick of it. You might behave like no one else in the world but you is affected by this situation, but you’re not on your own.’

‘I know,’ he acknowledged. ‘I just, I didn’t want to worry you, not in your condition.’

‘I’m pregnant, Edward, not sick. I don’t need protecting, even if that were possible, which it isn’t. Do you really think you can stop me from worrying, from thinking about what could happen, about what all this might mean for our family?’

Edward closed his eyes and grimaced as if in pain. ‘You’d have been much better off not meeting me. You could have met someone your own age, had a family with them, and lived a good life.’

Miranda shook her head in disbelief and anger. ‘You selfish, selfish man! Do you know what you’re saying? You’re saying I’d be better off if this never happened. That this never happened.’ She gestured at her swollen abdomen.

‘I… I didn’t mean it like that,’ he backtracked. ‘Miranda, I’m sorry.’

But she was past hearing apologies. ‘Is this just about the court case, or is it about the baby too?’

Edward looked shocked. ‘I… I don’t understand.’

‘Well, you weren’t that overjoyed at the news,’ Miranda found herself saying. ‘Oh, you said you were happy, but did you look it? I’m not so sure.’

He took a step towards her, arms outstretched. ‘Of course I’m happy, Miranda. It was a shock at first, yes, but I am happy. Once I got used to the idea of being a father again, it felt good.’

Miranda’s anger settled and she regretted what she had said, even though she’d meant it. ‘Well, Edward,’ she said softly, ‘you have to show that you’re happy, not just say it.’

‘I know, I know.’ He pulled her towards him and kissed her hair. ‘I’m really sorry for everything. I promise I’ll try to make things better, for all of us, I truly promise that, whatever happens. I’ll do whatever it takes.’

***

Before leaving her apartment, Lizzy gazed in the mirror for the last time, running a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. She looked tired. The past few weeks had been difficult, trying to get over her experience while also continuing her lead role in the musical. They had given her a couple of weeks off, and offered her more, but she’d insisted on returning. It wouldn’t do her any good to have too much time to think about events. It was much better to carry on as normal. So two weeks ago she had returned to the lead role. It had felt good, but it was exhausting. It didn’t help that she wasn’t sleeping well. Usually she had no trouble in that department – she could fall asleep anywhere – on top of a pinhead, her mother had once said. But it hadn’t been like that recently. Many times she’d woken in a panic, thinking that she was still in Peter Myers’ house, blindfolded and tied to a chair. She’d taken up the offer of counselling, and that was helping. But she knew it would take time, even for someone as strong as her. It was the same for all of them: Emma, Dan, Richard, Will. They were all going through the same thing, in one form or another.

But there was the one thing in particular that gnawed at her – what Peter Myers had told her during the first few hours of her imprisonment.

She exited the apartment and paced towards the bus stop. It was a beautiful day and she wished she’d remembered her sunglasses, which had been away in a drawer for most of the summer. The bus travelling towards the West End was crowded, but there was a free seat towards the back. A man who had also been waiting at the stop – he’d arrived just after she had – sat down next to her. He was in his middle to late thirties, with a receding hairline.

‘Nice day,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Lizzy replied, glancing up from her stage notes and groaning inwardly. Normally ready to talk to strangers, today she felt uncharacteristically unsociable, as she needed the time on the bus to revise. She’d been quite forgetful since returning to the stage. Only little things – a line that came out slightly wrong, or a hesitation at who was supposed to be speaking next – but she was a perfectionist, and it wasn’t acceptable, not on the London stage. Although her fellow cast members had been too polite to mention the slip-ups, the director certainly hadn’t. He’d been supportive, acknowledging that it was understandable given what she’d been through, but at the same time he made it clear that he expected her to address the issue pretty quickly, or stand aside.

She could understand that.

‘It’s Lizzy, isn’t it?’ the man said.

Lizzy stiffened. ‘How do you…’

‘It’s okay,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I know it looks weird, but I only want a quick chat. I thought the bus ride would be the perfect opportunity.’

Now Lizzy was angry. She recognised the voice. ‘Adrian Spencer. It’s you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ he said, proffering a hand. ‘Adrian Spencer, London Daily Post.’

Lizzy wanted to push past him and sit somewhere else. For the past three weeks, this guy had been calling her, asking for an interview. He was writing a feature article about the events surrounding Dan’s kidnap. Lizzy, like Emma and the others, had refused his increasingly persistent advances. ‘You’ve got some nerve.’

He shrugged. ‘You have to, in my job.’

‘Well, it’s not a job I’d want to do, harassing people who have been through terrible events and are just trying to get on with their lives.’

‘Steady on,’ he said. ‘Harassment is a bit strong a word.’

‘You think so? Well, where I come from, what you’ve been doing – calling me, Emma, Will, Dan, Richard, Edward, numerous times, not taking no for an answer, and now pestering me on my way to work – is definitely harassment. And if you don’t stop it, I will call the police, you understand?’

‘Okay, I appreciate that you could see it in that way, but I just want to get the story straight. I’ll be writing the article whether I speak to you or not, so surely it’s better for you to get your side of the story straight. You wouldn’t want to be misrepresented, would you?’

Lizzy bristled. ‘Don’t threaten me.’

He laughed that off. ‘Now, come on, I’m not threatening anyone. It’s just a fact. My editor wants to run this story, the readers want to read about it, so it is going to happen. How it happens is up to you, in many ways.’

‘Okay,’ Lizzy said, ‘I’ll give you a quote.’

‘Great, let me just get my recorder.’ He delved into his pocket and brought out the digital recording device, pressing the record button as he held it between them. ‘Feel free to go ahead.’

‘Get lost!’

Adrian Spencer’s face creased and he lowered the device. ‘I can see that now isn’t a good time.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ Lizzy said. ‘It will never be a good time. You won’t get anything from me.’

‘Not even for a fee?’

Lizzy laughed. ‘You must be desperate, if you’re starting to offer money. The answer’s no, not for any amount. You understand?’

‘I still don’t see why you’re so hostile about this.’

She shook her head. This man just didn’t get it. ‘Because, as I’ve explained to you several times over the phone, what happened to us isn’t entertainment. We’re all still coming to terms with what happened, it’s extremely difficult and stressful, and we don’t want our lives served up in your crappy little newspaper just to satisfy people’s curiosity.’

‘Can I quote you on that?’

‘Screw you. Now, please, move.’ They were still some way from her stop, but she decided it was time to leave. She would gladly walk the extra minutes to get away from this creep.

He stood up to let her pass, but as she disembarked he followed her off the bus.

‘Leave me alone,’ she shouted, as the bus pulled away. ‘Don’t you understand English?’

‘Sure, I’ll leave you alone,’ he said. ‘But there’s one last thing before I go.’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Lizzy started walking away.

‘I think you do,’ he shouted after her. ‘I know about the secret. I know all about what Peter Myers told you.’

Lizzy stopped and turned around.

3

Will Holden sat down on the park bench, stretched out his legs and looked up at the sky. Overhead a plane trailed across, en route to Heathrow. He brought his vision back down to earth, scanning Regent’s Park. It was still early morning – just past ten – but already the sun had begun to bring out the crowds. There were the usual joggers, a mixture of ages and sizes, pounding the grass and paths, plugged into their music players, lost in their own world. There were the dog walkers, many of whom looked remarkably like their pets. There were the families, children playing with balls or engaged in chase with their siblings. And there were the lovers, hand in hand, out for a morning stroll.

Will smiled. Things felt good. Just a few weeks ago, in this very same park, it had been so different. The sense of doom had been suffocating, as he wondered whether Dan was still alive, and whether it was all because of him: because of what he had done.

And it had been.

Or at least what he had been party to. Yes, it was Stuart Harris who had killed Stephen Myers. But it was he who had helped him dispose of the body. And it was he who had kept quiet about what had happened. He still regretted keeping the secret for so long, and it had been such a relief to tell Emma and the others the truth.

They had persuaded him not to tell the police.

Once they had found out that his claim about telling the police everything had been a spur-of-the-moment lie to stop their father from shooting Peter Myers, they had been clear – admitting his crime to the authorities wouldn’t achieve anything, apart from punishing him even more than he had already punished himself. In the aftermath of Dan’s rescue, he had considered what to do. He decided that they were right. The burden of hiding the secret had been lifted – for the first time in years he felt free of its crushing weight.

He had been given another chance.

Suddenly he saw Amy, walking across the grass, her arms falling lightly to her sides as she approached. She was wearing joggers and a summery t-shirt. She looked beautiful, with her blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.

‘Hi,’ she said, smiling. ‘You’re early.’

‘So are you.’ Will smiled back, standing to greet her. She offered him her cheek and he kissed it lightly.

They had met two and a half weeks ago at a bar in town. Amy had sparked up conversation while waiting to get served and, for the next two hours, they’d talked non-stop about all manner of things – their backgrounds, likes and dislikes, hopes for the future. Amy was a sports teacher at an inner-city comprehensive, and obviously loved her job. Will had never met anyone so instantly attractive, looks- and personality-wise, so he’d been amazed when she had suggested meeting up the next day for a coffee.

Two and a half weeks, and numerous dates later, things couldn’t have been going any better.

‘Are you ready, then,’ she said, ‘to face your fears?’

Will nodded. At the first meeting he had revealed his fear of spiders, and how it was the main barrier for him visiting his old school friend Ed, who’d emigrated to Melbourne, Australia, three years ago. Ed and his wife Yvonne had invited him there numerous times, but the thought of visiting a country where spiders came as big as your fist was just too much. For as long as he could remember, he’d hated spiders. It probably had something to do with the film Arachnophobia, which he had watched at a friend’s house when he was only ten years old. The movie, about a town plagued by the arachnids, had lingered in his memory.

On their third date, a moonlit walk by the Thames, Amy had suggested a radical treatment for his fear – holding a tarantula as part of a phobia treatment session at London Zoo. She knew a friend, a fellow teacher at her school, who had done it, and it had worked really well. At first dismissing the idea because of sheer horror, Will came round. At the heart of it, he wanted to impress Amy, who was obviously much more adventurous than he – she had been trekking in Nepal, explored South America on a gap year by herself, regularly parachute jumped (Will was afraid of heights), and competed in several triathlons, to name just some of her exploits. Compared to all of that, holding a spider in a controlled environment seemed straightforward.

Except that it wasn’t, of course.

They walked hand in hand across the grass towards the entrance to the zoo. Will wanted to back out. And his face must have shown it.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Amy said, as they reached the gates. ‘You look, well, terrible.’

‘I’m fine,’ he lied, ‘just a bit nervous.’

Amy smiled warmly. ‘It’s okay, you know, you don’t have to do this. Don’t feel forced into it. We could try again another time.’

Will braced himself. He had to do this now, or it would never happen. ‘No, I’m doing it.’

They paid at the desk and entered the zoo. It was another ten minutes until their slot for the up-close and personal session with the spider, so they spent the time wandering around the zoo, with Amy trying to take Will’s mind off the impending encounter. They spent time watching the penguins, where Amy revealed that she intended to visit Antarctica, and had already done some investigating of possible options. Her distraction technique worked and by the time they headed off to the building Will felt better.

Ten minutes later and Will was standing there, Amy by his side, with the biggest spider he had ever seen being lowered gently onto the palm of his hand. The keeper stood back as he brought his hand away from the tarantula.

‘Are you okay, Will?’

Will nodded, not daring to breathe in case it startled the spider into scurrying up his arm, or jumping towards his face. Suddenly his arms didn’t seem long enough. But a few small breaths and he was okay, watching the creature with its hairy black legs as it moved slowly over his palm.

‘Its legs tickle,’ he said, finally managing to get some words out.

The man nodded. ‘He’s a friendly chap, Horace. Likes giving massages to make people feel comfortable.’

The spider paused, as if wondering what to do. Will looked across at Amy, who smiled.

‘You see,’ the man said, ‘lots of people are afraid of spiders, certainly. My wife nearly split up with me when she realised what I did for a living – she was scared stiff that one might stow away in my bag and appear in front of her. But now she’s fine with them, and most people are, if you can break down the instinctive barrier that’s there.’

Will focussed on the spider again. It was a lot better than he’d expected, although obviously he was still nervous. ‘Do a lot of people do this kind of thing?’

‘A lot. Since we started doing these sessions a few years ago, the number of people enrolling has grown every year.’

‘Does anyone ever freak out, when you first bring out the spider?’

‘Some do,’ the keeper acknowledged. ‘One man, a banker from the city, came in here last week, all bravado, until he saw Horace. He couldn’t leave the building quickly enough. But mostly people warm to them, once they realise that there’s really nothing to be scared of. After all, even the bigger spiders are much smaller than we are.’

Will felt a sense of achievement – he could have been one of those people who had lost it, turned on his heels, and run. But he hadn’t. He’d faced his fears, kept his cool, and come through. It felt good, really good.

‘Had enough?’ the man asked. ‘Or would you like to meet Horace’s friend – he’s a little bit bigger than this guy, and faster.’

Will looked over at Amy again, then back at the man. ‘Why not.’

‘Well done,’ Amy said, hugging his arm as they headed back into the main area of the zoo. ‘That was amazing, really amazing.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Will couldn’t help but smile. ‘Thanks. I can’t believe I actually did it.’

‘Well, you did!’

‘It was all because of you, you know. Without you, I would never have done it.’

‘Rubbish,’ she said, ‘it just might have taken you longer to get around to it, that’s all.’

Will knew that wasn’t the case. ‘Maybe.’

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s grab a coffee, and I’ll explain what’s next.’

‘Next?’

But Amy was already bounding off, beckoning him to follow. ‘Come on.’

‘How does it feel?’ she said, taking a sip from her coffee, sitting across from Will in the zoo’s restaurant. ‘To conquer your fears like that?’

‘It feels brilliant,’ Will replied. ‘Absolutely brilliant.’

Amy smiled. ‘But how did you feel when you first saw the spider?’

‘Scared, really scared.’

‘And when the guy lowered it onto your hand?’

‘Terrified.’

‘That’s how I felt,’ she revealed.

Will was taken aback. ‘What? I didn’t know you were scared of spiders.’

‘I don’t mean then. I mean every time I’ve done something challenging. The first parachute jump, I was scared witless. Those first few days in South America, when I realised I really was out there on my own, were dreadful. On the second day I nearly booked a flight straight back home.’

‘I didn’t realise. I thought…’

‘That I was fearless?’ Amy smiled. ‘Well, far from it. I forced myself to do all these things. To me, it’s not a challenge if you’re not frightened, even just a little bit. Life is filled with things to be afraid of, so as far as I can see it, you’ve got a choice – either you run away from them, or you face them down. And from my experience, it’s a lot more fun facing them head on.’

‘You’re amazing,’ Will found himself saying out loud. He blushed.

‘Thanks,’ she said, seemingly not embarrassed by his statement. ‘I think you’re pretty amazing too, Will Holden.’

‘No one’s ever called me pretty amazing before,’ Will joked, glad to be able to defuse his discomfort with humour. They both laughed. ‘So, you said about explaining what’s next.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘we can’t be late for our flight.’

‘Flight?’

She reached down into her bag and pulled out a white envelope, which she placed on the table. ‘Will Holden, are you ready to face your next fear?’

Will fought his instinctive reaction, which was to ask a question to find out more about what this was about. ‘Yes.’

‘Excellent,’ she said, ‘otherwise the tickets would have been wasted.’

‘Please don’t say it’s a parachute jump.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘And what would you say if I said it was?’

‘Well, I guess I’ve already said yes.’

‘Damn.’ She thumped the table playfully. ‘I should have aimed higher.’

Will creased his forehead in confusion.

‘Open the envelope,’ she said. ‘It’s not a parachute jump – that will have to wait. But full marks for being up for it.’

Will slid his fingers under the seal. Inside were two tickets for the London Eye. He’d mentioned his fear of heights during their first discussion at the bar, and had actually quoted London’s big wheel as one of the things he didn’t feel able to do. A couple of years ago Emma, Dan and Lizzy had gone on it, and he’d watched from below, feeling left out. So although it wasn’t a parachute jump, it was another leap for him. He looked up at Amy, whose blue eyes were sparkling at him. ‘Let’s do it.’

***

Lizzy got through the matinee without any slip-ups. It wasn’t her best performance, but under the circumstances, she thought she had done pretty well. Her only tactic was to push the words of Adrian Spencer as far towards the back of her mind as possible. And in truth, during the show she had only thought about it briefly. But now, back in the dressing room, it was up front and centre. For the past month she had been trying to ignore the situation, but now that he knew, she had to take another path.

It was time to talk to Will.

4

‘This is amazing,’ Emma said, as she walked hand in hand with Dan down to the seafront. The five-minute train ride from their base to the main resort of St. Ives had been breathtaking. The line arced around the golden coast, hugging the cliffs and offering a spectacular view across the bay and out to sea.

‘Yes, amazing.’ Dan was watching a flock of seagulls that circled overhead before allowing the wind to carry them away into the near distance. The sun was still shining in a clear blue sky, and it felt as if he and Emma had just stepped into a vivid oil painting.

They strolled through a quaint alleyway of micro-galleries, restaurants and boutique shops. Dan held up the town-centre map that they’d picked up from their apartment. ‘The beachfront is the next right.’

‘Wouldn’t it be amazing,’ Emma said, as she peered into the window of a shop that sold beautiful knitwear, ‘to run something like this. Just move out of London, come down here, and live the quiet life – early morning seafront walks, fresh air, no stress.’

Dan moved up to her shoulder. ‘Is that what you’d really like to do?’

She shrugged. ‘Sure, why not?’

‘Sounds idyllic, but I thought London was the place to be for those in the,’ – he put on a mock posh accent, as opposed to his usual South Yorkshire twang – ‘acting profession.’

Emma elbowed him playfully in the ribs. ‘Plenty of actors live in the countryside, you know. I’ve heard Gloucestershire, the Cotswolds, is full of them – Kate Winslet, for example.’

‘Ah, but Gloucestershire is about an hour and a half train ride from London, or a short drive in a fast car, while St. Ives, Cornwall, well, it’s a lot further away.’

‘True,’ Emma acknowledged. ‘But if I wasn’t acting, it wouldn’t matter.’

‘Really?’ Dan said. ‘You’re not thinking of walking away from it all, are you?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Because of what happened?’

‘I’ve considered it.’ Emma expected Dan to come back with a reason why she shouldn’t even contemplate the thought, but he didn’t.

‘Are you going to say anything to Diana?’

‘No,’ Emma replied. ‘I’m just going there to listen to what she has to say.’

She was meeting Diana , her prospective new agent on Wednesday, the day after they were due to return from holiday. Diana had contacted her a week ago, wanting to meet about a potential ‘amazing opportunity’, as she had put it. Emma’s existing agent had just announced her retirement, so it had seemed like good timing. She wasn’t totally convinced that Diana Saunders would be right for her – she had a fearsome reputation in the business and from all reports was the kind of person you either loved or hated. But Diana had been charming on the phone, and extremely persuasive – which surely had to be an agent’s most important trait. She could be just the person Emma needed batting for her, especially given her rejecting the part in the movie. And what harm could one meeting do, even if it didn’t work out?

‘You know, Em, I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, but just make sure you do it for the right reasons. If you really want to move down here and live the rural seaside life, I’ll be with you all the way. I mean, I could go freelance.’ Dan was a graphic designer at a small but successful company based in London. ‘With graphic design, it doesn’t matter where you live if you’re freelance – it’s just about building up a reputation, and you can work with people anywhere in the world. But don’t let what happened scare you into giving up your dreams.’

Emma hugged him. ‘Thanks. I won’t.’

Their first morning in St. Ives was fantastic. They strolled along the seafront, taking in the sights of the fishing boats in the harbour and the holidaymakers spread out over the beach, enjoying the sunshine. It might have been the dying days of peak holiday season, but St. Ives was still a resort that was buzzing with people. Children splashed in the clear blue waters, and around the headland an army of surfers rode the waves, flipping off and onto their boards in the quest for the perfect ride. At lunchtime, after exploring the shops of the high street, they grabbed some fish and chips and sat on the sea wall, just in front of the Tate gallery.

‘I couldn’t be happier,’ Emma said, popping a chip into her mouth and resting her shoulder against Dan’s.

Dan brought his arm around her back. He looked off into the distance, far out to sea, as if searching for the right words. Emma watched his face. He looked troubled. ‘Me too,’ he said finally.

‘Are you okay?’

He nodded unconvincingly. ‘You know, there was a time when I thought I’d never see you again.’ He traced his tongue along his top lip, which Emma knew meant he was struggling to contain his emotions.

She squeezed his hand. ‘It’s okay; we can talk about this now. I know what we said back in the apartment, about forgetting it all while we’re away, but maybe this is the best place to deal with it.’

There was a tear glinting in the corner of Dan’s eye. ‘I was so scared, Em.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve never been as scared in my life.’

‘Scared of Peter Myers?’

‘No, scared of losing you.’

‘I was afraid of losing you, too,’ she said. ‘There were points when I thought you might already be…’

‘Dead?’

Emma couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

‘Is that why…’ Dan stopped himself, looking out again towards open water.

‘What?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, blowing out his cheeks.

‘No, Dan, don’t keep things bottled up. You’ve got to let these things out.’

He gathered himself. ‘Is that why you got close to Stuart Harris again?’

Emma wasn’t expecting that. She didn’t know what to say.

Dan looked at her. ‘I saw the photographs on the Daily Post website. You were on the boat with him, sailing down the Thames, drinking champagne.’

Immediately she felt on the defensive. The boat trip, to publicise the upcoming movie that she was then due to play a major role in, had been covered extensively by the newspaper. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but here it was, causing trouble. ‘I didn’t know he’d be there. It wasn’t planned, I promise.’

‘I know,’ he said sadly. ‘I know it wasn’t, I didn’t mean it like that.’

Emma searched for the words. She didn’t feel angry at what Dan had suggested; she felt guilty. She had, for however short a period, got too close to Stuart Harris. Yes, he had used her, but she had been somewhat willing. Is this why Dan had been acting so strange since his release – had it not been about his incarceration at all? Had it been about them? If so, then for the good of their relationship it did need dealing with now.

‘I love you, Dan, not Stuart. Please believe me. I did love him, a long time ago, but honestly, he wasn’t half the man you are. And the way I feel about you, well, it’s totally different to anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s on another level – always has been, always will be.’

Dan nodded. ‘I’m really sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have questioned you like that. I do trust you, totally. It’s just that when I saw those photos you looked… so happy.’

Emma wanted to cry. She could empathise totally with how he must have felt seeing those images, taken at the time when he’d been imprisoned, with the world not knowing whether he was dead or alive. ‘Maybe for that split second,’ she admitted. ‘But you know what photos are like – sometimes they don’t tell the real story. I wasn’t really happy. How could I be? My fiancé was missing. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t gone to that event, but I guess it was just how I got through it all. Peter Myers made me think that you’d left me.’

‘I’m being an idiot,’ he said. ‘We were having a lovely time, trying to get over things, and I’m going on like this, jealous about someone who isn’t even alive anymore.’

‘You’re not an idiot. You’re just being honest about how you feel. There’s nothing wrong with that. It would be wrong to say nothing, and go on worrying. That’s not a good way to start a marriage.’

‘You still want to get married?’

‘Of course I do!’

‘Even though I doubted you?’

‘Come on,’ Emma said, patting Dan on the thigh and getting to her feet. ‘I’ll race you to the sea. Last one there has to sit with my mad Aunty Ruth at the reception.’

They sprinted towards the water’s edge, unaware that they were being watched.

***

Will took a beer out of the fridge, flicked on the television and flopped down onto the sofa. He was on a high. What an amazing day. And Amy was such an amazing girl. In many ways, the trip on the London Eye had been just as terrifying as the encounter with the spider. But likewise, to take on and conquer his fear of heights was equally fantastic. Initially, as the pod had begun to rise, he’d felt paralysed with fear of what was to come, and just wanted to get off. But by the time they reached the top of the wheel he had really started to enjoy himself, although his palms remained slick with sweat. The view that the wheel afforded was spectacular – London spread out before him like a toy town – with the Palace of Westminster down below, glinting in the sun. Again, Amy had been the spur, challenging him to do things he had shied away from all his life. He’d never met anyone like her before. Least of all, someone like her who seemed to like him – he’d never had the best luck in the romance department.

He hoped she would stick around.

He took a swig from the bottle and channel-hopped. He could see himself marrying her. Although it was of course very early days, and there was no way on earth that he would admit such a thing to Amy. Surely something like that would send her running for the hills. He didn’t even know if she agreed with marriage, or wanted children, or –

Stop it.

But why not wallow in the joy of the moment? After all, it might be the real deal. And if it wasn’t, then it was still better to enjoy it while it lasted. Amy’s life philosophy was definitely rubbing off on him. To think he used to be such a pessimistic idiot.

The buzzer sounded at ten past seven, just as he was preparing a microwave pasta meal. It was Lizzy.

‘Hi, Lizzy,’ he said, as she entered the flat. ‘You okay?’

‘I need to ask you something.’ She took a seat and avoided the pleasantries. ‘It’s going to sound weird, I know it is, but I just need to ask you.’

Will sat down opposite her. It already sounded weird. And she looked spooked. It brought back bad memories of those awful couple of weeks, just one short month ago. ‘What’s the matter?’

Lizzy gathered her thoughts. ‘That reporter, Adrian Spencer, has he spoken to you today?’

‘No. Not since I told him to get lost, what, maybe three days ago, the last time he phoned me up. Has he been bothering you again?’

‘He followed me onto the bus this morning.’

Will was aghast. ‘What? That’s terrible – he’s stalking you. He’s really stepped over the line. I hope you told him where to go.’

‘I did. But then he told me something.’

Will didn’t like the sound of this. ‘Go on.’

She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t quite know how to say this,’ she began. ‘Err… when… you…’

‘Lizzy, you’re really worrying me.’

‘He’s spoken with Peter Myers,’ she blurted out. ‘In the past week – to gather information for the article.’

Suddenly Will thought he knew what this was all about, and his stomach started to drop. ‘Did he tell him about what I did? He told Adrian Spencer about me and Stephen Myers?’

They had all wondered why Peter Myers had not told the police about Will’s involvement in his son’s death. One theory was that he was just waiting for the right time. Another, that for as long as he held on to the secret, he felt he would still have some power over them. Will didn’t really doubt that one day he would have to answer to the police for what he had done, but why now, when things were going so well for him?

‘It’s not that,’ Lizzy said. ‘I don’t think he knows anything about what happened.’

Will was hugely relieved. ‘Then what is it about?’

Again Lizzy paused ominously, extinguishing his relief. ‘Those years ago, when Stuart called you around to his flat, after he’d killed Stephen Myers, did you see his body?’

Will was taken aback by the question. ‘Well, yes, of course I did, you know, I helped to get rid of… it.’

‘Sorry, Will, I understand that. What I meant was, did you see his face – are you sure it was him?’

Again Will was dumbstruck. ‘What’s this all about, Lizzy?’

Lizzy seemed exasperated. ‘Just answer me, Will. Did you see his face?’

‘No. Not properly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Stuart dealt with it mostly, and I helped to carry him once he was wrapped up in the bed sheets. By then he was covered.’

This didn’t seem to be the answer Lizzy wanted to hear. ‘But what about when you got to the canal. You removed him from the sheets then, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but again, I didn’t look directly at him. I saw his body, yes, but not his face. It was him, though. It was Stephen Myers.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because the police would have checked that, wouldn’t they? And his family, he would have been identified by them. Why would you think it might not have been him?’

Lizzy swallowed and looked Will straight in the eyes. Again there was that haunted look. ‘Because Peter Myers told me that Stephen Myers is still alive.’

5

Dan and Emma spent a good hour walking barefoot by the sea, carrying their shoes, letting the warm waves lap over their feet. It was so relaxing and it felt a world away from the hustle and bustle of London.

‘I am sorry,’ Dan said, turning to face Emma and taking both her hands in his. ‘I feel terrible for questioning you about Stuart. I do trust you. But I’ve been feeling so afraid that you might have changed how you feel about me. I guess this whole experience has shaken me up more than I thought, and it’s made me question things that I’ve always taken for granted. It feels like the ground has shifted, like an earthquake, and it still hasn’t quite settled. Do you understand?’

Emma nodded. She knew exactly what he meant, and in fact it was a huge relief to find out that she wasn’t the only one who felt as if the world had been de-stabilised. ‘Like aftershocks.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s it, exactly – aftershocks. Just when I think I’m okay, another one comes along, and knocks me sideways. I realise then that everything isn’t quite back to normal.’

‘I know what you mean.’ She summoned the courage to ask the question she’d been desperate to ask for the past hour. ‘The reason you didn’t want to go ahead and re-arrange the wedding too soon – was it really because you felt unsure about how I felt about Stuart?’

Dan pressed his toes into the wet sand. ‘Partly – I’m sorry, Em.’

‘It’s okay, I understand. I appreciate your honesty.’

‘I should have spoken to you about it sooner. But it never really felt like the right time. And I didn’t intend to tell you here, on holiday, but it just came out.’

‘Well, I’m glad that it did. Because now we’ve been able to deal with it.’

Dan nodded. They looked at each other for a few moments, and then touched lips, holding the kiss as three children splashed past them, shouting with delight. ‘I do love you, Emma Holden.’

Emma looked into his eyes. ‘I love you too.’

They kissed again, and held each other close. Emma could feel the comforting sound of Dan’s heart beating.

‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ Dan said. ‘You remember you mentioned the open-air theatre, carved into the cliff-side?’

‘The Minack Theatre, yes.’

‘That’s it. Well, they’re currently running a production of Romeo and Juliet, and I’ve got us tickets for this evening.’

‘Cool, that’s great, my favourite play!’

‘I know,’ Dan smiled. ‘I do listen to what you say, you know. Well, most of the time, anyway.’

‘Thanks, it’s going to be great.’ Emma had played Juliet in her school play, many years ago. The fact that it was such an enjoyable experience was one of the reasons she had decided to go into acting, so the play held a special place in her heart.

***

The Minack Theatre was, according to the Sat Nav, about half an hour’s drive around the coast from their apartment. But, underestimating the time it would take to negotiate the unfamiliar, twisting Cornish roads, and the steep narrow lanes, they arrived later than planned, just ten minutes before the performance was due to begin. The cliff-top car park was already virtually full, and they were lucky to squeeze into a small space between two poorly parked cars. They’d already eaten at a wonderful, highly recommended burger restaurant in St. Ives, so at least they didn’t have to worry about food.

‘Amazing view,’ Emma said, as they queued to enter the theatre. Off towards the left were magnificent sheer-face cliffs that dropped down towards a long, sandy beach. The light was fading, casting shadows across the cliff-face, which made the sight even more spectacular.

Dan looked across towards the cliffs. ‘From what I’ve read, I think it’s even better from inside the theatre itself.’

He was right. The theatre, and the view it afforded, was amazing. Nestling into the partly excavated cliff, the theatre made the most of what nature offered. There were no chairs; instead the audience perched on stone terracing in an amphitheatre design, interspersed with beautiful floral displays. In front of them the sea spread out like a huge canvas, framing the small stage at the edge of the cliff-side in darkening blue.

Most of the audience had already taken their seats, and there weren’t any spaces below halfway to the front. Emma took her seat alongside Dan towards the back of the amphitheatre, on the left-hand side, squeezing in between two other couples. She looked across at the view. ‘Wow. It would be so amazing to perform here. And it would make a fantastic wedding venue too.’

‘Seriously, you’d like to get married here?’

‘Yeah, why not – can you imagine how spectacular the wedding photos would be, with that backdrop?’

A few minutes later the final call went out, and the play began. As night descended, the atmosphere grew to even greater levels. It was certainly the most stunning arena Emma had ever seen. She thought again about the idea of moving down to Cornwall. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy notion after all – the way she felt at that moment, she could happily work on this stage for the rest of her days. Who needed the West End when you could perform in such an amazing natural setting?

It was just after the interval that Emma noticed the man looking back up towards where they were sitting. It was impossible to see his face properly, because he was some way down the terracing, and it was just too dark. But without doubt, every so often, he would turn around and look towards where Emma and Dan were. The first few times she had noticed him, he seemed to be scanning the audience. But later, he appeared to have found what he was searching for, for his eyes stayed fixed in their direction. Of course he wasn’t looking at her, she knew that really, but it certainly seemed like it. She found her attention drifting away from the play as she began to check periodically to see what the man was doing. Mostly he was facing forward, towards the stage, but sometimes he was looking back. It was beginning to freak her out. She didn’t want to speak during the performance – it was a pet hate of all actors – so she resisted saying anything to Dan, who seemed engrossed in the play. Instead she pulled her jacket tightly around her, as the temperature continued to drop and an increasingly chilly sea wind whirled around them. Dan did notice that movement, and responded by wrapping an arm around her.

Soon Emma forgot about the man and began to lose herself once more in the action onstage. By the time the play finished, she had forgotten all about him. The audience stood as one to applaud the cast; it had been an impressive staging of the play, and the standing ovation was well deserved. The lights came on and everyone began their slow progress towards the exit at the top of the amphitheatre.

‘I’m just nipping to the toilet,’ Emma said, as they neared the exits.

‘Me too,’ Dan replied. ‘See you over there.’ He gestured towards the small shop, off to their right.

Emma nodded, and headed towards the nearby toilets. There was a significant queue. At first she decided to stay and join the dozens of people standing outside the door. But after a few minutes without movement, she began to get impatient and wondered whether there were any other facilities. She found an usher, a late middle-aged woman, who was standing guard by one of the railings.

‘Excuse me, are there any other toilet facilities apart from the ones over there? The queue’s really long.’

‘There aren’t any more public toilets,’ said the woman slightly hesitantly, ‘but sometimes we let people use the staff facilities. It should be okay. They’re just over there.’ She pointed to the far right side of the arena. ‘They’re not signed as toilets. There are only two cubicles, but it should be quieter. Just go through the blue door.’

‘Thanks.’

The staff toilets were down in a quiet corner of the theatre, already emptied of people, many of whom had already made their way back to their cars. Emma felt slightly guilty when she saw there was no queue, and she could just walk straight in – the people she had left by the public convenience would surely still be waiting. But maybe others had asked too, as whilst she was in the cubicle, she heard the outer door open and close. Now someone else was present she felt slightly unnerved, and wanted to return to the crowds, where Dan would probably already be waiting.

She was just about to flush the chain when the shoes appeared underneath the cubicle door. She caught her breath. They were men’s shoes, she was sure of it.

What on earth?

She froze, afraid to move or even breathe. There was a man standing right outside the cubicle, so close to the door that his shoes were peaking underneath.

Then she thought – the staff toilets were probably unisex. As the woman had said, there was no sign on the door, nothing to indicate men or women, so that was probably the case.

But still, why was the person standing right outside? The cubicle next door was free. And anyway, if you were waiting, who would stand so close? It certainly wasn’t socially acceptable behaviour.

She stared at the shoes, willing the person to leave, wondering whether she should say something.

The person stayed rooted to the spot and Emma’s heart-rate quickened.

Maybe one of the workers had seen her enter the toilets, and was waiting to tell her off for using staff facilities.

‘She said it was okay for me to come in here,’ Emma said, her voice full of nerves. ‘The other toilets were busy, so she said it was okay to use these.’

No response came. The shoes didn’t even move a millimetre. Emma regretted opening her mouth. What if it wasn’t a member of staff? She had just given away the fact that she was a woman.

Then she remembered about the man in the audience.

‘Please, go,’ she mouthed, ‘please.’

What if he had been watching her? What if he’d followed her out towards the top of the theatre, then to the public toilets, and now to the staff facilities?

The thought seemed ludicrous – there was no reason to believe he had even been looking at her. But here she was, trapped in this cubicle, with an unidentified man just inches away.

She pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, and then summoned up the courage to speak again. This time she suppressed the nerves, holding her voice steady. ‘If you don’t leave, right now, I’m going to call my boyfriend. He’ll be down here in seconds.’

Still no movement.

‘I’m dialling then,’ she said.

Dan picked up on the third ring. ‘Hi, Em.’

‘Dan, I’m in the staff toilets, on the right hand side of the theatre, can you get here, right now? It’s the unmarked blue door.’

‘Are you okay? You sound…’

‘Some guy is standing right outside my cubicle.’

A split second hesitation: then, ‘I’ll be there right away.’

The shoes disappeared and Emma heard the outer door open and close.

‘Thank God.’

Dan arrived just twenty or so seconds later. ‘Em, are you in there? It’s okay, it’s me.’

She opened the door and they hugged. She could feel her heart beating hard against Dan’s chest. ‘Did you see the person coming out of the toilets?’

‘No. I didn’t see anyone.’

***

They reported the incident at the office. The staff took it extremely seriously and even offered to call the police, but there seemed little point in getting them involved. What could they do? There was some CCTV on site, but none covering that area, so it would have been impossible to identify the person. And although it had been a scary, intimidating experience, no crime had been committed. The toilets had indeed been unisex, so the man, whoever he was, had every right to be there.

‘Are you okay?’ Dan said, as they fastened their seat belts and prepared to leave.

‘I’m fine.’

He looked across at her. ‘You still look shaken.’

‘It’s okay; it just really reminded me of all those bad things from the past – Stephen Myers, Peter Myers, you know, being stalked. I never want to go back to that – never.’

Dan nodded. ‘You won’t have to go back. I won’t let it happen.’

Emma reached for his hand. ‘I know you won’t. I just, well, I just don’t understand what happened there.’

Dan shrugged. ‘Just someone playing a sick joke maybe. Getting a kick out of scaring strangers.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You think something different?’

Now it was Emma’s turn to shrug. She thought back to the man in the audience. ‘You’re probably right. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

‘C’mon,’ said Dan, still looking at her. ‘Let’s go. Get back to the apartment, chill out for a while, and put this behind us. I’m really sorry this happened, Em, it was supposed to be such a good night.’

They reached the apartment block just before ten o’clock. Emma was still shaken, but on the journey back the memory had already begun to fade a little. She’d convinced herself that there couldn’t have been a connection between the man in the audience and the person in the toilets. She had been a random, rather than targeted, victim. It was the only explanation that seemed plausible.

They passed through the main entrance, climbed the stairs and turned left towards their apartment door. Outside on the mat was a large bouquet of assorted flowers – reds, blues, purples, yellows.

Emma smiled and turned to Dan.

But he didn’t smile back. ‘They’re not from me, sorry.’

Emma frowned and picked up the bouquet. Something was wrong with this. She found the note at the back of the flowers – a single, terrifying sentence.

I’m still your number one fan.

PART TWO

6

‘Morning,’ Dan said, as Emma entered the living area. He was sitting in front of the laptop they had brought with them, knowing that the apartment had free Wi-Fi. ‘I found out where the flower shop is.’

Emma joined him on the sofa. She still felt incredibly shaken after last night’s incidents, and hadn’t slept well, waking virtually every hour, thinking that she could hear something, or someone, outside. Sure, the door was locked, but the thought that someone knew where they were staying, and had arranged for those flowers to be delivered, with that message. It was just scary. And after what had happened at the theatre…

Dan pointed at the onscreen map. ‘It’s only just down the road. We could be there in a few minutes.’

Emma nodded. The shop was on the main road that snaked around the coast towards St. Ives, just before the big supermarket where they had stocked up with essential supplies on their arrival. It had been her idea to trace the shop’s location. The card had contained a company name on the back – Bella’s Bouquets – and as they hadn’t recognised the name, they’d assumed it was a local shop.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘It probably won’t be open for another hour, with it being Sunday.’

‘I thought so too,’ Dan replied, ‘but they’re open already. It says on their website.’

‘Okay, we’d better get ready then.’

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Definitely – if there’s a chance of finding out who sent those flowers, I want to know. I’m tired of running away from these kind of people.’

***

‘Can I help you?’

The lady behind the counter laid down a bunch of flowers that she was preparing, and took off her glasses.

Emma prayed that she’d be receptive to their request. ‘I received a bouquet of flowers last night, from your shop, and I wondered if you could tell me who sent them.’

The woman blinked at them for a second or two. ‘We don’t usually give out names. If the sender doesn’t request it to be on a card, then we assume they may want to remain anonymous.’

This hadn’t started well. Emma tried a different tactic. ‘The message on the card, it was threatening.’

The woman looked confused. ‘Threatening? We wouldn’t allow something threatening to be sent…’

‘It might not have seemed threatening to you. But it has a specific meaning for me.’

‘R-i-g-h-t,’ she said. She opened the large book on the counter and began to leaf through. ‘May I ask your name, please?’

‘Emma. Emma Holden.’

The woman popped her glasses back on and traced down the page with her finger. ‘Emma Holden. You’re staying at the Sunset View apartments. “I’m still your number one fan”?’

‘I was stalked once by someone who used to say he was my number one fan,’ Emma explained.

The lady looked troubled. ‘I see. And you think this is from him?’

‘No. He’s dead.’

‘Oh, right, well, how…’

‘It’s someone who knows about what happened, and is doing this to try and frighten me. I think they followed us last night, when we went to the Minack Theatre, and they had arranged for the flowers to be delivered for when we got back. That’s why we need to know who it is.’

Emma wasn’t totally convinced that the person who had sent the flowers was also the sinister individual from the theatre toilets, but it was certainly a possibility, and she thought it strengthened her case for being given the name.

The lady pursed her lips. ‘Don’t you need to speak to the police about this?’

‘We already did,’ Dan said. ‘Last night. They’re not interested.’

That wasn’t quite true. They had called the police in the minutes after receiving the note. The officer on the phone had been sympathetic, and offered some general advice about minimising risks in the event that this really was something sinister – making sure they stayed together whenever possible, keeping their outer door locked, reporting anything else to them straight away. But the reality was that nothing concrete had happened. And without the police really understanding the context of their concerns, it was natural for their reaction to be lukewarm. That’s when Emma had the idea of finding out where the flower shop was.

The lady looked at Dan, then at Emma, and back down at her book, tapping the page. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you. As I said, we don’t normally disclose names, but I think on this occasion, I’ll make an exception.’

‘Thank you,’ Emma said. ‘It means a lot.’

The lady raised her eyes from the book. ‘Stephen Myers.’

Emma felt a blast of sickness slam into her. ‘The person said they were called Stephen Myers?’

‘Yes. It’s written down here.’

‘It’s okay.’ Dan placed a comforting arm around Emma’s back.

‘Are you all right?’ the lady asked. ‘Does that name mean anything to you?’

Emma nodded, fighting the nausea. ‘The person who ordered the flowers, did they do it by phone, or in person?’

‘In person. I know I didn’t serve them, but it says here that they paid by cash, so it couldn’t have been over the telephone. Hang on one moment.’ She turned towards an open door behind her. ‘Alice, can you come here for a second?’

A girl in her late teens appeared, wearing green gloves and a pretty flowery apron. She smiled at Dan and Emma.

‘Alice, did you serve this gentleman?’ The lady pointed to the book.

The girl nodded. ‘He came in yesterday, early morning.’

‘Can you describe him?’ Emma asked.

‘He was about your height,’ said Alice, nodding towards Dan, ‘but very thin. His face was thin too, you know, hollow-looking. His nose was quite, well, prominent, pointy. Sorry,’ she added, suddenly looking embarrassed, ‘is he a friend of yours?’

‘No.’ Emma’s heart was racing. This girl was describing Stephen Myers, or at least how Emma remembered him. ‘What colour hair did he have?’

‘It was dark. Dark brown, I think, not black.’

That was right too. But it couldn’t be. He was dead, buried six feet under the churchyard that Peter Myers had taken them to, and to think otherwise was ludicrous.

‘Eye colour?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t notice that.’

And then the question she felt was almost too crazy to ask. ‘Did you notice anything else about him, anything about his face?’

Would she mention the scar?

‘Yes. His cheek, his right cheek.’ Alice traced a finger down her own cheek and under the chin. ‘He had a scar, running down here.’

‘It can’t be,’ Emma said, closing her eyes, as the room seemed to start spinning around her. ‘It’s not possible.’

***

‘What do you want to do?’ Dan asked.

Emma looked out of the car window. ‘I don’t want to run away, and spoil our holiday.’

‘But it’s already been spoilt, hasn’t it?’

Emma nodded, putting a hand to her head. ‘You’ve spent so much money, on such a fantastic apartment.’

‘I know, but that’s not important, is it?’

Emma turned to look at him. ‘What’s going on, Dan?’

‘I don’t know – I really don’t.’

‘Someone is stalking me again, pretending to be Stephen Myers. Who the hell would do something like that? Peter Myers is in jail, so it can’t be him. I mean, the person who ordered those flowers, he even looked like Stephen Myers.’

‘I know,’ Dan acknowledged.

‘And whoever this person is, they knew we were on holiday. They knew we were in Cornwall, they knew exactly where we are staying – the apartment number, everything. Do you think they followed us from London?’

‘Maybe – or it might have been a chance sighting. They might live down here, and have read about what happened in the news, and decided to play a sick joke on you.’

‘I guess.’ Emma thought about that scenario. It was actually the most appealing option, which was presumably why Dan had suggested it. Anything was better than the possibility of someone driving hundreds of miles, following her in a much more calculating fashion. But then she thought back to what had happened en route to Cornwall, at the services – the imagined sighting of Stephen Myers. Maybe what she had seen hadn’t been the product of an overactive imagination after all. Maybe it had been that same person, trying to look like her one-time tormentor. And in the department store in London. Maybe that, too, had been real. ‘Do you think what happened at the theatre is connected? The person in the toilets, do you think it could be the same person who sent the flowers?’

‘Well, I’d like to think not.’

‘Me too, but it’s possible.’

Dan nodded. ‘It’s possible. But even if there isn’t a connection, the reality is someone around here sent those flowers to you, pretending to be Stephen Myers. And like you said, they know exactly where we’re staying. I think that we’d be mad to stick around here, don’t you think?’

‘You’re right.’

‘Then it’s settled, we’ll go back and pack. If we stayed around for another two days and something happened, I’d never forgive myself.’

7

Emma sensed that Lizzy and Will were holding something back. She was relaying the events of the previous two days to them, as the four of them, including Dan, faced each other across the kitchen table in their London apartment. A bottle of red wine was open in front of them, but no one had touched it as yet. The lasagne in the oven smelt delicious. It was five o’clock on Sunday evening, only a couple of hours since they had arrived back from Cornwall. Lizzy had suggested meeting up later that afternoon at their place – she would bring around some food and drink – as they would no doubt be hungry after the long car ride and wouldn’t feel like cooking from scratch. Emma had said there was no need to go to that effort, but Lizzy was undeterred and insisted on it, saying she’d invite Will around, too.

Emma should have realised then that there was more to this.

‘I still can’t believe that this person said his name was Stephen Myers.’ Lizzy looked disturbed. ‘I can’t believe it.’ She glanced across at Will.

‘What is it?’ Emma said, noting the look in Will’s eyes.

‘You’d better just tell her,’ Will said.

‘Tell me what?’

Lizzy grabbed the bottle of red and poured herself a generous glass. ‘I need some of this.’ She took a gulp. ‘Now, Em, this is going to sound crazy, absolutely crazy, and I can’t believe I’m actually going to say it. But the person who sent you those flowers, who said they were Stephen Myers, what if it actually is Stephen Myers?’

‘What? You’re not serious, are you?’

‘I know, I know, it’s mad, I told you it would be. But just what if?’

Emma was stunned. ‘I don’t understand. Stephen Myers is dead. We saw his grave, remember?’

‘I know, I know.’ Lizzy seemed to be struggling with what she was trying to say.

Emma looked at Will again. ‘Something’s happened. Tell me what.’

Will exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, then back towards his sister. ‘That journalist, Adrian Spencer, he said he went to speak with Peter Myers in prison. And Peter Myers told him that Stephen isn’t dead.’

‘Isn’t dead? But you saw him.’

Will looked away.

‘But you did, didn’t you? You saw him.’

‘I didn’t see his face,’ he replied, suddenly looking upset. ‘I couldn’t look at him properly, so I don’t know for certain that it was him.’

Emma shook her head. ‘The police would have made sure they had the right person. Peter Myers is just playing games with us again. He knows how to get at us, even when he’s locked up in jail.’

‘Probably,’ Will admitted.

Emma focussed on her best friend. ‘Lizzy, you don’t think so?’

Lizzy shrugged.

Emma had another idea. ‘Maybe Adrian Spencer is making it up – maybe he’s just trying to get us to talk. Maybe he hasn’t spoken to Peter Myers at all. Maybe he’s trying to provoke a reaction.’

Lizzy closed her eyes. ‘No, that’s not it.’

‘But how can you be so sure?’

‘Because he told me the same thing.’

‘Who?’

‘Peter Myers. When he was holding me captive – he told me that Stephen Myers was alive.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Emma said, shocked that her best friend had kept that from her. But then why should she be surprised? Lizzy had been through the same traumatic experience as Dan, and like him, she hadn’t said much about anything that had happened inside Peter Myers’ house.

‘Because I thought it was rubbish,’ Lizzy responded. ‘And I thought it would just freak you out. I was going to tell you, but then you became so anxious, thinking you were seeing Stephen Myers when we were out shopping, for instance. I thought that telling you that would make things worse. And I thought that’s just what he would have wanted, to scare you – to bring the one you fear back from the dead.’

‘I understand. What else did Peter Myers tell you?’

Lizzy hesitated.

‘Tell her,’ Will said.

Lizzy took another drink of wine and steadied herself. ‘He said that Stephen Myers was coming back for you.’

‘He can’t be alive,’ Emma said, as they sat rather nervously in the lounge after dinner. ‘He can’t be.’

The others remained silent, letting her statement hang in the air.

‘Think back,’ she said to Will, ‘the night Stuart called you over. You might not have looked at Stephen’s face, but Stuart told you it was him, didn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, why would he say it was Stephen Myers if it was really someone else?’

‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t, I guess.’

‘Exactly. There was no reason for him to lie.’

‘But the person in Cornwall…’ Lizzy said.

‘Was someone who just wanted to frighten us,’ Emma replied.

‘Em’s right,’ Will said. ‘Stephen Myers is dead. He has to be.’

‘But you said before…’ Lizzy began.

‘I got carried away,’ Will said. ‘If you think about it, it doesn’t make sense.’

‘Maybe,’ Lizzy replied, ‘but it still leaves someone else out there, pretending to be him.’

‘That’s what really worries me,’ said Dan, who’d been very quiet throughout much of the meal. ‘I’m not worried about Stephen Myers – he’s long gone. I’m worried about the person who is living and breathing – the person who was following us in Cornwall. I’m worried that he’s now back in London.’

They all agreed.

‘So what do we do?’ Lizzy said. ‘Call the police?’

‘We tried that in Cornwall,’ Dan said. ‘They weren’t interested.’

‘What about Gasnier?’

‘Gasnier?’ Knowing how Lizzy felt about Detective Inspector Mark Gasnier, Emma was surprised at her suggestion. Lizzy had taken an uncharacteristic dislike to him: ‘arrogant’ had been one of her more flattering descriptions of the police officer who had led the hunt for Dan.

Lizzy held up her hands. ‘Okay, I know what I said about him, and I still don’t like the guy. But he knows us, and he knows the case. He might be more likely to give us a hearing.’

‘She’s got a point,’ Will said. ‘He might help.’

Emma looked questioningly at Dan.

‘Call him,’ said Dan. ‘If someone’s following you again, we can’t just sit back and wait to see what happens. And if Gasnier can do something about it, then let’s try and get him involved.’

Five minutes later they had their answer.

‘Not that interested,’ Emma said, deflated, as she ended the call.

Lizzy shook her head. ‘I should have known. Sorry, Em.’

‘Not interested at all?’ Will said.

Emma placed the phone on the arm of the sofa. ‘Similar to the police in Cornwall – he said just to be aware of things, not take any unnecessary risks, report anything more sinister if it happens, and then they can take action.’

Dan snorted. ‘Basically it was a total waste of time, then. Sometimes I wonder whether the police actually want to prevent crimes.’

‘Now what?’ Lizzy said.

Emma shrugged. ‘Keep our eyes open, I guess, and be careful.’

‘Hire a private detective,’ Will quipped. ‘They could follow you, see if you were being stalked by this person.’

Lizzy looked interested. ‘Hey, that’s not a bad idea.’

‘I don’t like the thought of a private investigator,’ Emma replied. ‘It sounds too heavy. And anyway, aren’t they expensive, even if we did know a good one to approach?’

‘Probably,’ Dan said. ‘To be honest, you don’t really need a private eye. You just need someone who can follow you, keep their eye out, and maybe take a few photographs of anyone who looks suspicious.’

‘Follow and take photographs…’ Lizzy clicked her fingers. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

8

‘Oh, it’s you.’

Standing at his front door on that bright Monday morning, David Sherborn was visibly shocked. More than that, he looked horrified, which given their history was completely understandable. The man who had been paid by the casting director Guy Roberts to follow Emma, getting photographs for Guy’s perverse publicity campaign, hadn’t expected to see them back at his house.

‘Hi,’ Emma said, trying for a well-intentioned smile. ‘Could we come in and have a quick chat?’

He glanced around the door, biting on his lip. ‘The family are in. Let’s go around to my studio, where we spoke last time.’

As he had previously, he led them around the side of the house to the rear studio annex. The visit certainly brought back all the memories for Emma, and no doubt it did the same for David Sherborn. Lizzy’s idea – to try and enlist his help – was an inspired one and had met with agreement from the other three. Sherborn had already demonstrated his ability to follow people around and take photos. Whether he would agree to such a thing was another matter. The decision for only Lizzy and Emma to visit him was a calculated one; introducing someone new, particularly male, might destabilise things and scare him off.

‘Take a seat,’ Sherborn said, still looking shaken. ‘Can I get you a drink? Tea, coffee? I’ve got a new espresso machine – I can do cappuccinos, lattés.’

‘Lattés,’ said Emma, knowing Lizzy’s favourite drink. ‘Thanks.’

‘So,’ said Sherborn a few minutes later, handing them their drinks. ‘What can I do for you?’

Emma felt sorry for him. Who knew what was going through his mind at that moment? ‘We need your help.’

‘Oh. I thought it might be about what happened.’

‘It is, in a way. We think someone else might be following me, stalking me. And they’re pretending to be Stephen Myers.’

‘Oh, right, that’s… awful. I’m really sorry to hear that.’

‘Something happened while I was on holiday in Cornwall at the weekend. Someone sent me some flowers, pretending to be Stephen Myers. And I think they also followed me and Dan when we were on a night out. I think I’ve seen the person in London too, a week or so ago.’

‘I can see how that would be concerning. Do the police know?’

‘They can’t really do anything,’ Lizzy said. ‘No crime has been committed. They’ve just advised us to keep alert, and report anything else that happens. Then they might be able to act.’

‘Right…’ Suddenly Sherborn’s face flushed with horror. ‘You don’t think this has got anything to do with me, do you? I mean, I know what I did, and I’m so sorry for it, I really am. But I promise this has nothing to do with me. Nothing, I swear.’

‘It’s okay,’ Emma said, ‘we don’t think you’ve got anything to do with it. That’s not why we’re here.’

‘That’s a relief,’ he said, running a hand across his face and into his hair. ‘You know, it’s been a difficult few weeks, trying to come to terms with what I did. I still feel really ashamed. I never told my wife, although I’ve thought maybe I should.’

‘You shouldn’t feel ashamed,’ Emma said. ‘You really helped us. Without you telling us about Guy Roberts and what he was doing, we might not have found Dan.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t even ask how your boyfriend was. I saw the reports in the newspapers.’

‘He’s okay now. But the events of the past few days have set us all back a little.’

‘I can imagine.’ Then he seemed to remember something. ‘You said you needed my help?’

Emma smiled. ‘Yes, we do.’

He looked quizzical. ‘I don’t understand. What can I do?’

‘I want to know if someone is following me – we all want to know. The police won’t help, but we hope that you might.’

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘We want to ask you a favour. We want you to follow me, take photographs, see if there is anyone who might be stalking me.’

David Sherborn laughed incredulously. ‘I’m not a private detective…’

‘It’s only what you did last time,’ Lizzy replied. ‘Except that this time, you’d be doing it for the right reasons.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting,’ he said, after a few seconds, ‘that I wasn’t very good at it. You found me out, remember?’

‘Only after a while,’ Emma replied. ‘By then, you’d already been following me for days, hadn’t you? And you’d already got lots of photographs.’

He nodded.

‘Whereas this time you would only need to do it for a few days, maybe just two or three – long enough to be sure whether someone is following me. And if you get photographs, we could give them to the police and maybe they could then take action.’

‘Taking police matters into your own hands. It sounds dangerous.’

‘It wouldn’t be,’ Lizzy said. ‘If there is someone following Emma, we don’t want you to engage with them in any way. And we don’t want you to follow them – only Emma. We don’t want anyone put in danger, including you.’

‘Work’s getting busy again,’ said Sherborn. ‘I’ve been trying to put all this behind me, and I’ve got a queue of clients for family portraits. The second half of this week I’m pretty full with bookings.’

Clearly, he was leading up to a ‘no’. But Lizzy wasn’t giving in just yet. ‘What about the first half of the week?’

‘Quieter,’ he replied, with a slight hesitation. ‘I’ve got some night-time shoots, but during the day today through till Wednesday, it’s clear at the moment.’

‘That’s all we’d need,’ Lizzy said. ‘These three days. See if you can see anybody, hang back as far as you can with one of your telescopic lenses, shoot some pictures, then we can meet up later on Wednesday afternoon and see what you’ve got.’

‘Please,’ urged Emma. ‘I’d be really grateful.’

‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll do it. And I don’t want any money for it.’ He seemed to relax now the decision had been made. ‘So how is this going to work? You want me to follow you around the whole time?’

Emma glanced at Lizzy, who was trying to hide her delight. ‘As much as you can. But I’ll text you regularly to let you know where I am.’

He nodded. ‘I am glad to be able to help, you know. I still feel like I owe you.’

***

‘Do you think he’s watching us now?’ Lizzy said, as they sat in the deli cafe, snacking on baguettes.

Emma resisted the temptation to look around. ‘Who? David Sherborn or the Stephen Myers impostor?’

‘I was thinking more of the Stephen Myers impostor.’

Now Emma did look up. ‘I hope not.’ Scanning around as discreetly as she could, she looked at the other customers: a young mother sitting in the far corner, spooning food into her baby’s open mouth, a couple of businessmen eating alone, two young friends who looked like they might be students, and a middle-aged woman who was reading a novel.

‘You seem to be handling this really well,’ Lizzy said. ‘I mean, after all that you’ve already gone through, now to have this to deal with – it would be totally understandable if you felt it was all too much.’

Emma took a bite from her tuna baguette. ‘I’m actually surprised myself. I can’t explain why I feel calmer about it all, but I just do. Maybe it’s because I know that the real danger, the person who nearly killed Richard and took Dan and you, is safely locked away.’

‘But somebody is out there, pretending to be Stephen Myers. That must worry you.’

‘It does. But I know I’ve got all of you with me. Dan’s here now, you’re here, and Will. Knowing you’re all with me gives me strength and makes me feel safe. Plus, whoever this person is, they want me to be scared, and I guess I don’t want to give them what they’re after.’

‘You’re stronger than people think,’ Lizzy said. ‘Quietly strong.’

Emma smiled. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’m really sorry. For not telling you about what Peter Myers said to me. I was just so torn.’

‘It’s okay, honestly. I know you did it for the right reasons. We can’t let him get to us.’

‘It seems like he’s using Adrian Spencer to do that – using him as a mouthpiece.’

Emma nodded. ‘I wish that guy would just disappear. To be honest, I don’t care anymore if he writes his story or not. I just want him to leave us alone.’

‘Agreed.’ Lizzy glanced at her watch. ‘Oh, hell, I’m late for the matinee. Sorry, Em, I’m going to have to dash.’

‘It’s okay, you go. Don’t give that director any more ammunition.’

‘You’ll go straight home, won’t you?’ Lizzy grabbed her half-eaten lunch and got to her feet. ‘I don’t like the idea of you walking around on your own, not at the moment.’

‘I’ll go straight back,’ Emma replied. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll finish this first though.’

Emma watched as Lizzy exited the café and hurried off down the street. She glanced around again at the other customers. They were all busy with their own business – talking between themselves or on their mobile phones, browsing the internet, or simply enjoying the food and drink. No one seemed interested in her. But still, now Lizzy was gone, she felt exposed.

She’d just returned to her lunch when her phone rang. It wasn’t a number she recognised.

‘Hello?’

‘Is that Emma? Emma Holden?’

‘Yes, it’s Emma.’ The voice on the other end of the line was instantly recognisable, even though it had been years. ‘Charlotte, is that you?’

‘Yes, yes it is.’

Emma couldn’t believe it: Charlotte Harris, Stuart’s sister.

‘I wondered if it would be possible to meet up, this afternoon if you can. I should have called you before now. It’s really very important.’

9

Taking heed of Lizzy’s warning not to go off anywhere on her own, Emma offered to meet with Charlotte in the café. By the time she’d finished her lunch and was drinking a newly ordered tea, Charlotte had arrived.

‘Emma,’ she said, unsmiling. ‘Long time no see.’

Emma stood up and the two kissed a hello. Charlotte had a cropped brown bob, which framed her pretty face. It replaced the long hairstyle that Emma remembered, and it suited her. But it felt awkward, being face to face again with Stuart’s little sister. It had been years since Emma had last seen her – the day before Stuart had walked out on her, in fact. A group of them had all gone for a picnic in Hyde Park, and everything had seemed perfect – better than they’d been for a while. There had been no warning signs, although now Emma knew that Stuart had been carrying a shockingly dark secret around with him for some time before then: a secret that was to be the end for them as a couple.

Stuart had killed Stephen Myers.

As was understandable, the end of her and Stuart’s relationship also meant the end of Emma’s friendship with Charlotte. They’d actually been quite close. On a number of occasions, Charlotte had travelled down from the North and stayed over at their London flat, and Emma and Stuart had shown her the sights. She was a nice girl, five years younger than Emma, and she felt like the little sister Emma had never had. Over the years, Emma had wondered what had become of her. And now here she was.

Emma ordered her a drink from the waitress. ‘You’ve really grown up,’ she said to Charlotte.

Charlotte blushed slightly. ‘Yes, I’m not a naïve little girl anymore, that’s for sure.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound patronising.’

‘It’s okay, it didn’t.’ Her coffee arrived and she spooned in a surprisingly large amount of sugar before taking a sip.

Emma took a proper look at her. She had aged quite significantly in the intervening years. In fact, she looked significantly older than mid-twenties. Her skin looked as if she might be a smoker, and her eyes were tired. How much of that aging had taken place in the weeks since Stuart’s death? ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘And you. Although I thought we might have seen you at Stuart’s funeral.’

Emma was afraid she would mention that. ‘I felt it would be better if I stayed away.’ It had been a big surprise to receive the invite, but she really hadn’t felt able to go. It didn’t seem right. She’d decided it would be better for everyone, not only herself, but also Dan, and Stuart’s family for that matter, if she stayed away. So instead she’d sent a condolence card and given her apologies.

‘Well, I would have liked to have seen you,’ Charlotte replied.

‘I...’ Emma hesitated.

‘I really missed you, you know, after you split with Stuart.’

‘I missed you too.’

Charlotte seemed surprised. ‘Did you?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘You could have got in touch, you know. I mean, I know that Stuart broke up with you, but it didn’t mean you had to just… abandon me.’

‘I’m really sorry, Charlotte, I never knew you felt like that.’

‘No, how could you?’

‘I wish it had been that easy to stay in touch,’ Emma said, ‘but it wasn’t. Stuart broke off all links with me, and I certainly don’t think he would have wanted me to have any contact with you.’

Charlotte shrugged. ‘Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter now. That was a long time ago.’

‘I am sorry about what happened to Stuart. I loved your brother, and I never wanted to see him hurt.’

Charlotte smiled disbelievingly. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘Then why did you lead him on?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Why did you lead him on the way you did? Make him feel like he had a chance with you again?’

Is this why she wanted to meet, to voice her anger at what had happened to Stuart, and to assign blame? ‘I… I didn’t lead him on.’

‘You did! He spoke to me, after the date you had on the river boat down the Thames. He was so happy, he truly believed there was a chance you two could get back together.’

Emma shook her head – Charlotte had this all wrong, possibly blinded by family loyalty, or maybe misled by Stuart himself. ‘That wasn’t a date, Charlotte. It was an event promoting a film. I didn’t even know Stuart was going to be there.’

Charlotte sidestepped this explanation. ‘Are you saying you didn’t have a good time with my brother that night?’

‘I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying that it wasn’t planned, and it certainly wasn’t a date. And I also didn’t do anything to lead your brother on.’

‘That’s not how he saw it.’

Emma tried again. This was going badly wrong. ‘Charlotte, I know how awful these past few weeks must have been for you. What happened was such a terrible shock – for me, too.’

‘Now you are patronising me,’ she shot back. But it proved to be her final offensive manoeuvre, and her face softened with sadness. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to lose your big brother – the only person who you could totally depend on. I know he made a big mistake, more than one in fact, but he was a good person, Emma, he was a good, kind person.’

‘I know he was.’ Emma reached across the table and took her hand.

Charlotte looked up tearfully. ‘He told me once how much he regretted losing you. He said he’d do anything to turn back the clock and be with you again. That’s why he was so happy, when he thought there might be a chance.’

‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, but there was never a chance. I love Dan.’

‘I know. I just wish he hadn’t met you again. He’d moved on with things. He was happy with his girlfriend, and things were going well.’

‘I wish he could have moved on too. I honestly do.’

‘I’ve got to go,’ Charlotte said. ‘But the reason why I wanted to see you was to give you this.’ She handed over a brown envelope, with Emma’s name scrawled on the front. It looked like Stuart’s handwriting.

‘Two days after Stuart died, I received a parcel from him,’ Charlotte explained. ‘He’d written letters to me, my mum and dad, his girlfriend Sally, and you.’

Emma looked at it, then up at Charlotte.

‘You don’t have to open it now,’ said Charlotte. ‘Do it in your own time. I’m sorry, I should have given this to you before now, but I was angry.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll be going now. Would you like me to pay for my drink?’

‘It’s okay, I’ll get it.’

Emma watched as she left the café. The letter felt like a ton weight in her hands.

Should she open it?

She decided not to, for now. It wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to look at in public. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look at it at all, but the right place was certainly not here. So she slipped it into her bag and went to the counter to pay.

‘That’s fine,’ the girl said, as Emma presented her debit card. ‘You don’t have anything more to pay.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your friend covered the tab. Paid cash for the lot.’

‘Friend?’

‘Yes, the man who left a few minutes ago. He paid for everything.’

‘He must have made a mistake. He wasn’t with us.’

‘I know,’ the girl said, ‘he was sitting by the window on his own, but he definitely meant to pay for your order. He pointed you out specifically.’

‘I don’t understand, I really don’t know what’s going on, why would somebody do that?’

She smiled. ‘I wouldn’t argue with a free lunch. Looks like you’ve got yourself a fan.’

***

Miranda returned from the hospital just after six o’clock. It had been a tiring day at work. The pregnancy was really taking its toll, sapping her energy levels to the extent that, for most of the day, she had just wanted to curl up in a corner and sleep. But her schedule afforded no time for rest: as a doctor, the needs of the patients came before your own. Now, however, she desperately wanted to relax – maybe run herself a hot bath, light some candles, and soak for an hour or so. Well, she might as well take such moments before things like that became too difficult. She couldn’t imagine many candlelit baths after the baby arrived.

She entered the house and listened for signs of life. Edward had gone out earlier to meet with a client, but he’d promised to be back by five in time to start the evening meal off. ‘Edward, are you home?’

No answer.

She entered the living room. All was quiet. And no sign of him in the kitchen, either. The meeting must have run late. But when she got to the bedroom, she saw the one-line note, lying on top of the covers.

Sorry, I’ve betrayed you all. Again. This is for the best. Goodbye.

‘No, you can’t have...’

But a few seconds later, her fears were confirmed. A check of the wardrobe revealed that his overnight bag had gone.

***

‘Are you okay? Want to talk?’

‘I can’t believe he’d do this,’ Emma said, ‘to Miranda or to me. Just walk away without explanation. He’s so selfish.’

Dan sat down on the bed and put his arms around her. It was eleven o’clock on Monday evening – some hours after Miranda had called to tell them the news about her father. She’d rung primarily to check that he hadn’t gone around to their flat, more out of hope than expectation. He wasn’t answering his mobile phone and she was beside herself with worry.

‘You know,’ Emma said, ‘I thought he’d learnt his lesson after what happened. But he hasn’t changed. He hasn’t changed at all.’

‘He’s under a lot of pressure,’ Dan said. ‘It’s not an excuse for running off, but maybe he just had to get away for a bit – like we tried to do by going to Cornwall.’

Emma shook her head. ‘The trouble with my dad is that he won’t talk to anyone. He doesn’t even let his closest family get close enough to understand how he is feeling. He wasn’t always like that. Before Mum got sick, he wasn’t like that at all. He was open, caring. He was never the same after she died. The dad I used to know would never have done the kind of things he’s done in the past few weeks.’

‘Have you tried his phone again?’

‘Still switched off.’

‘Maybe you’ll have better luck in the morning. He’s probably checked into a hotel. Give him a night to think things over and he’ll probably be in touch tomorrow.’

‘Maybe,’ Emma replied, not particularly believing it. It was equally possible that her father intended the break to be permanent. He could be on the road, getting as far away from them all as possible, driving without any particular destination in mind.

She had an unsettling feeling that she had seen the last of him.

10

‘Impressed?’ Lizzy arrived at the flat right on time. It was early Wednesday morning, just before nine, the day Emma had arranged to meet the agent, Diana Saunders. It was also Dan’s first day back in the office, and there was an important team meeting about a new multinational client, so Lizzy had offered to accompany Emma. After what had happened at the deli café, where someone had obviously been watching her, they all thought it increasingly important that Emma shouldn’t be alone.

‘Come in,’ Emma said. ‘Dan’s just left.’

As Emma boiled the kettle, Lizzy jumped right in. ‘Have you told him about the letter?’

Emma dropped a tea bag into the pot. ‘No, not yet.’ She wasn’t certain that she was ever going to tell Dan about the letter from Stuart Harris. ‘I’m still not sure that I’m actually going to read it.’ Since Monday, the letter had remained buried in the bottom of her sock drawer.

Lizzy let the topic drop. ‘Did you have a nice day yesterday?’

‘Pretty good, under the circumstances.’ Dan had suggested a day out in Windsor. The forecast had been good, and it was their last day on holiday, so they’d taken the train and spent the day touring the sights, including the castle and Eton College. She hadn’t been there since she was a little child, and although she didn’t tell Dan, the place really reminded her of her parents – which, with her father still missing, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. But still, they had enjoyed the day, and in places, it was a great distraction from other concerns.

Lizzy seemed to read Emma’s mind. ‘No word from your dad?’

Emma shook her head. ‘Nothing. Miranda called again last night, checking whether he’d been in touch.’

‘And no news from David Sherborn?’

‘No.’

They were due to meet with him later that day, to see whether he had managed to identify anyone who was following her. Emma doubted whether he would come up with anything. ‘To be honest, I’m starting to wonder whether he’s actually been doing what he promised.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, I haven’t heard or seen him at all since our meeting on Monday. He’s never replied to the texts I sent, letting him know where I was.’

‘I guess he didn’t really need to reply. He just needed to read your text and go to that location.’

Emma shrugged. ‘I would have thought I’d see him, maybe not a lot, but occasionally. For instance, yesterday in Windsor, I looked around quite a bit, but there was no sign of him.’

‘Maybe he’s got better at staying out of sight.’

‘Yeah, maybe I’m underestimating him.’

***

Emma and Lizzy got off the tube at Piccadilly Circus, glad to be out into the relatively fresher air at street level – the underground network was a great resource, but it could really do with air-conditioning, especially during warmer spells. The agency was situated just a few minutes from the station, in the heart of the capital. This was prime real-estate territory, and rent on the two-storey, glass-fronted building that housed the EXCEL-ENT media agency must have been astronomical. The agency was just a few years old, having been set up by a breakaway group of agents from a traditional agency, following a fall-out over company direction in the new digital age. It had a reputation of pushing the boundaries in maximising opportunities and income for their clients (and in turn, the agents themselves), and it covered all fields of media, including publishing, television, film, music, and digital. The agency now represented some of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry.

That’s why it had seemed such an honour to receive the unsolicited invite from Diana Saunders. She was a company director, and one of the founding members. She was also leading new developments with the company. From what Emma had heard, most of Diana’s working week was now spent flying between the UK and the United States, where the agency had just set up a New York office. So the fact she was prepared to take time to meet with Emma was a huge compliment.

‘Well,’ Lizzy said, looking up at the building. ‘Good luck. Just give me a call when you’re finished. I’ll be in the swanky clothes shops, just around the corner.’

‘Thanks.’ Emma felt nervous as she reported to reception. She was led into the waiting lift, and emerged into an open-plan office.

A girl, smiling broadly, approached and proffered a hand. ‘Emma, pleased to meet you. I’m Cathy, Diana’s assistant. She’ll be with you in a minute. She’s just finishing a call. Please, just take a seat through there.’ She gestured towards an office to the left. ‘Can I get you a tea, coffee?’

‘Just water would be great.’

Emma perched on the edge of the chair, sipping the water, as Diana breezed in to the room.

‘Diana Saunders. Sorry for that,’ she said, flipping her trademark dark-rimmed glasses up into her hairline. She was wearing a dark 1980s-style power suit, and her jet-black hair was pulled tightly back. ‘Important call.’

‘It’s really nice to meet you,’ Emma said, feeling somewhat in awe of this woman whom she’d heard so much about.

‘And you, and you.’ Diana seemed distracted. She had pulled out her mobile phone, and was scrolling through the display. ‘I have an email here, somewhere. Somewhere here… yes, here it is.’ She placed the phone on the desk without any explanation And finally looked at Emma properly. ‘Yes, really nice to meet you, Emma.’

Emma smiled back, not quite knowing what to say next. ‘I was surprised when you got in touch.’

‘Good, good. I like to surprise people. Tell me, Emma, what’s the most captivating plot you’ve been involved in so far?’ She replaced her glasses and sat back.

‘Well, erm…’ This was an unexpected first question. Emma tried to think through some of the many plots that had occurred during her time on the soap opera Up My Street. Okay, they were often outlandish, but they were nearly always captivating. Some people viewed soaps as a low form of entertainment, but in fact they were one of the highest forms, knowing just how to draw people in and keep their attention on what happened next – which was why millions of viewers tuned in to every episode. ‘Maybe the episode with the fire in the nightclub,’ she said. That had been one of the most expensive episodes in the show’s history, and Emma had played a starring role. She was very proud of that one.

‘Wrong!’ Diana said. ‘Absolutely, totally wrong.’

Emma flushed red. ‘I don‘t under...’.

‘Your real life,’ Diana said, ‘that’s the most captivating plot.’

‘But… I thought you meant…’

‘Fiction?’ she smiled. ‘Fact, fiction, it’s all the same to me.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

Diana picked up the mobile phone. ‘Have you heard of Firework Films?’

Emma shook her head.

‘They’re a relatively new production company. Ambitious, boundary-pushers – the kind of people I like to work with. You might have seen some of their work – The Shortest Girl on Earth, Married to my Pet, Life of a Junkie, Skidrow Rehab.’

Warning bells sounded. Emma had certainly heard of these programmes; every one of them had made headlines because of their controversial topics and the voyeuristic (some argued, exploitative) approach taken by the makers. To Emma, it was reality TV at its very worst.

‘I’ve heard of them, yes.’

‘Good. Well, they have an offer for you. An offer I’m sure you’ll agree represents a fantastic opportunity. They would like to produce a dramatization of what happened to you, Emma. The programme would feature actors playing the parts of you, your family, and others. But they would also want to feature cut-away mini-interviews with the real players in the plot. As such, it would be a complementary mix of approaches, giving the viewer a real insight into what happened. I think it would be dynamite.’

‘No,’ Emma said. ‘I’m not interested.’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. So this is why the great Diana Saunders had called her in – because she thought there was a done deal she could persuade Emma to take.

Diana looked unmoved, as if she hadn’t even computed Emma’s response. ‘And depending on the ratings, they would then like to make another show, focussing on your return to acting. They would accompany you on your journey as you seek to make it back to the top.’

Emma nearly laughed with disbelief, but actually she felt incredibly angry. Her life and the lives of her friends and family were being touted as cheap, throwaway entertainment. All that pain and anguish, the deaths, the fear – that was to be served up to satisfy viewers? No way would she ever be a part of it. ‘What would you say if I turned this down? Would you still be interested in taking me on as a client?’

Diana’s hesitation confirmed what Emma already thought. ‘I think you’d be crazy to turn down this opportunity.’

Emma stood up. ‘I think I’d better go.’

Now Diana did look shocked. Clearly she wasn’t used to rejection. ‘Do you really think you’ve got a future in acting?’

Her sudden, abrasive tone stopped Emma dead.

Diana smiled cruelly. ‘You turned down the biggest opportunity in your life a few weeks ago. And by pulling out you caused a lot of problems for the people making that film. Everyone in the business knows now that you can’t rely on Emma Holden. She may just walk away, decide that she doesn’t want to do it anymore, and to hell with the consequences. Do you really think there will be people queuing up to employ you?’

‘If it means not having to work with people like you, then I really don’t care,’ Emma replied, exiting the office.

Emma leant back on the wall of the neighbouring building, trying to control her breathing. That had been one of the worst experiences of her career. But at least she had stood up to that woman, and it felt good. She called Lizzy, who arrived within minutes. Just as Emma was in the middle of explaining the situation, her mobile rang.

‘Emma, it’s David Sherborn.’

‘Oh, hi, are you still okay for meeting later?’

‘Sure am. In fact, we can meet earlier if you like.’

‘Fine by me, I’m out with Lizzy at the moment, we’re…’

‘In a side street just off Piccadilly Circus.’

Emma looked around. She spotted him off towards their left, next to a post box. He held up a hand. ‘Now, then?’

‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something really interesting to show you.’

PART THREE

11

‘Let me get those,’ David said, as they ordered their coffees. Emma and Lizzy took their drinks to a free table in the quiet coffee shop and David joined them shortly afterwards, pulling a brown envelope from his jacket pocket.

‘I’ve got to admit, I was obviously really hesitant about doing this when you first asked me,’ he began. ‘But to be honest, I’ve really enjoyed the past few days. Maybe I should look to change career, and go into surveillance full time.’

Emma and Lizzy smiled politely, but wanted to find out what he knew. Having convinced herself that he wouldn’t come up with anything, Emma’s hopes had now risen dramatically.

He seemed to read their impatience, and pulled out a photograph from the envelope, laying it on the table. He placed a finger on the image. ‘This guy I spotted pretty much straight away. Monday, in fact, shortly after I started to follow you – he was pretty obvious.’

Emma was disappointed. ‘Adrian Spencer.’

David was surprised. ‘You know him?’

‘He’s a reporter for the Daily Post,’ Lizzy explained. ‘He’s been pestering us for quotes about what happened to us for the past few weeks.’

‘Right. Well, this guy was definitely following you for quite some time on Monday. I also saw him taking photographs, and making notes.’

Photographs? Emma wanted to speak to Adrian Spencer about that. What was he intending to do with them – use them with his feature story? That just wasn’t on. ‘Was he following me in Windsor yesterday?’

‘No,’ David Sherborn replied. ‘I didn’t see him at all yesterday.’

‘So you were in Windsor?’

He smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I had a lovely time. The security services are probably investigating me as I speak, given that I was waiting outside the castle for two hours with a telescopic lens while you were on your guided tour.’

‘I guess you had a quiet day then,’ Lizzy said, ‘if Adrian Spencer wasn’t around.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’

Emma was intrigued. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I didn’t see Adrian Spencer, but I did spot this guy.’ He placed a second photograph over the first. ‘I noticed him first of all at Waterloo Station. He was hanging back, but I spotted him. He caught the same train as you. Do you recognise him?’

Emma and Lizzy scrutinised the image. The man, probably in his mid-twenties, was quite good-looking, tallish, sandy brown hair. ‘No,’ they said in unison.

David brought out a third photograph. ‘He also followed you into the castle, and around the town. He ate in the same restaurant as you.’

Emma shuddered at the thought.

‘He then tailed you down to Eton College, but didn’t go in. That’s when he stopped following you. He caught the next train back to Waterloo.’

Emma was surprised. ‘You followed him to London?’

‘I know you said I only had to follow you, but I guess I got caught up in it all, so I thought I might as well see where he was going.’

Lizzy leant forward. ‘So where did he go?’

David Sherborn smiled. ‘That’s where it gets really interesting.’ He brought out a final photograph.

Emma couldn’t believe it. ‘Guy Roberts? He went to meet with Guy Roberts?’ The casting director who had caused so much trouble for them – how was he involved in all of this?

David nodded. ‘The mystery man went straight around to his house.’

***

‘So are we going to see him?’ Lizzy said, as David Sherborn left the café.

‘Sorry?’ Emma was lost in thought.

What did all this have to do with Guy Roberts?

‘Guy Roberts,’ Lizzy said. ‘I vote we go straight around to his house, and have it out with him.’

‘I’m not sure. I think we need to think about this, before rushing in making accusations.’

Lizzy looked unconvinced, and disappointed. ‘So, ’ she said, after a few moments of silence, ‘if we aren’t going to do that, then what should we do?’

‘First of all, I want to speak with Adrian Spencer’s bosses.’

Lizzy sparked to life. ‘The Daily Post?’

Emma nodded. ‘They’ve got to be told what he’s doing. It’s not right, following us around like that, taking photographs. If we get him off our backs, it will be one less thing to worry about.’

‘They might know about what he’s doing. They might have sanctioned it.’

‘Maybe. But whatever the case, I want to let them know that we’re not putting up with it any longer.’

***

The Daily Post headquarters was based in Stratford, East London. Emma and Lizzy took the Docklands Light Railway, which glided out of the city, past the towering, shimmering structures of Canary Wharf, and into London’s outskirts. Once a derelict, industrial wasteland, Stratford had in recent years been transformed by a massive regeneration programme in advance of the London Olympics.

As they were en route, both Will and Dan called to see how they were. Emma updated them about the revelations from David Sherborn. Dan made her promise they wouldn’t do anything that day regarding Guy Roberts; like Emma herself, he felt it was too risky to tackle Guy without careful thought. Plus, Dan wanted to be there. He wasn’t particularly happy about them taking issue with Adrian Spencer’s employers, although Emma persuaded him that they weren’t going to do anything risky – just go there and report what he had been doing.

‘So how are we going to play this?’ Lizzy said, as they neared the offices. ‘What if they call Adrian Spencer downstairs? He’ll probably be angry, don’t you think?’

‘I hadn’t thought that far,’ Emma admitted. ‘Maybe we should have just called the office to report it.’

‘Nah, it’ll be okay. It’s better to get there in person. At least we can make sure our complaint gets heard.’

They reached the building, a rather unimpressive concrete structure straight from the 1970s.

They waited for the receptionist to complete a telephone conversation. ‘Can I help you?’ she said, finally looking up at them.

‘We’re here to make a complaint,’ Emma began. ‘About one of your reporters – he’s been bothering me and my friends for the past few weeks, and we’ve just found out he’s also been taking photographs.’

‘Okay.’ The woman didn’t look surprised. She picked up the telephone again. ‘Just one moment, please, I’ll see if Dominic is here.’

‘Dominic?’

‘Our public relations manager. Oh, hello, Dominic? It’s Elizabeth here on reception. I was wondering if you’re free now. We’ve got two ladies down here who would like to make a complaint against one of our reporters… no, I didn’t ask that… okay, great, thanks.’ She replaced the handset and smiled. ‘If you could just wait over there, Dominic will be with you shortly.’ She gestured at the row of comfy chairs in the corner.

‘Public relations manager,’ Lizzy whispered, raising a mischievous eyebrow as they sat down.

Emma was glad that they hadn’t yet said whom they were complaining about; at least Adrian wouldn’t be tipped off. She didn’t really want to come face to face with him at this point.

A couple of minutes later a man appeared. He was in his early thirties, very smartly dressed in a dark suit and an open-collar pastel-blue shirt. He held out a hand. ‘Hi, I’m Dominic Carter, public relations manager for the Daily Post. I hear you’ve got a complaint?’

Emma nodded. ‘It’s about…’

He held up a hand. ‘If you don’t mind, we can continue in the side office. It’s best to maintain some privacy with these things, I find.’

They followed him into the nearby office and took a seat.

‘Would you like a drink?

‘We’re okay,’ Emma replied, not wanting to prolong the meeting any more than they had to.

‘So how can I help you?’

Emma glanced at Lizzy for support, then back at Dominic. Suddenly this all seemed very serious, and part of her now regretted taking this step. Even though Adrian Spencer had been very troublesome, and had refused to take no for an answer, she didn’t want him to lose his job over this. And by doing what they were doing, it was possible that he could be fired – especially with all the recent controversy about standards in journalism, and the need to demonstrate to the public that the press worked to an ethical code. Once they had made their complaint and left the building, who knew what might happen to Adrian. But still, something did need to be done; hopefully Adrian’s superiors would just warn him about his behaviour and that would be the end of it. ‘One of your journalists has been bothering us,’ she said.

‘Pestering us,’ Lizzy emphasised. ‘For weeks. Refusing to leave us alone when we said we didn’t want to talk to him.’ She looked at Emma by way of an apology for her impromptu interjection.

‘Okay,’ Dominic said, his brow furrowed. ‘Maybe I should start by taking your names.’

‘Emma Holden, and Lizzy Thomas.’

He looked up from his notepad, interested. ‘Emma Holden as in, the kidnapping case?’

Emma nodded.

‘I see. So, tell me more about what’s been happening.’

‘Well, as Lizzy said, the reporter, he started approaching us, at home and in the street, trying to get quotes for a feature he’s writing on what happened to us. We told him we weren’t interested, but he won’t leave us alone. And I’ve just found out that he’s been following me, taking photographs.’

Dominic frowned. ‘We’ve got very strict standards here at the Daily Post. Obviously our journalists have to work hard to get their stories, but there is a line, and from what you’ve just told me, on this occasion, we’ve crossed it. So first of all, I’d like to apologise on behalf of the newspaper for what has happened. And secondly, I want to promise you that we’ll speak to the journalist in question, and ensure that this doesn’t happen again.’

‘Thank you,’ Emma said. ‘We don’t want him to get into real trouble. We just want him to leave us alone. We’ve all been through so much, and we really don’t want to be part of another newspaper story. We want privacy, and time to get over it all.’

‘It’s okay. I understand. He’ll just get an informal warning, and like I said, it won’t happen again.’

‘Thanks.’

‘So, I guess I’d better take his name then.’

Emma looked across at Lizzy again, then back at Dominic. Once she said the name, there was no going back. ‘It’s Adrian Spencer.’

‘Adrian Spencer,’ he said. ‘Not familiar with him.’ He thought some more. ‘Nope, doesn’t ring any bells. That’s a good thing. It means he can’t have been in any trouble before now. Just a second.’ He dialled an extension number on the phone that was hung on the wall. ‘Veronica? Adrian Spencer, can you just check which team he’s based in. He’s leading on a feature about the Emma Holden case… thanks.’ He waited for a few moments. ‘Are you sure? You’re absolutely definite about that? Couldn’t be a mistake? Okay, thanks.’

He sat back down. ‘I’m really sorry, but the guy who’s been bothering you doesn’t work for this paper.’

Emma was taken aback. ‘Sorry?’

‘We don’t have anyone called Adrian Spencer working here.’

‘But he’s writing the article,’ Lizzy said. ‘The feature article for your paper.’

‘There is no feature article being written about you – my PA just checked. I’m sorry, but it looks like he’s working for someone else.’

12

Will Holden couldn’t concentrate at all. He sat back in his chair and stared out the window. His work as a human resources officer in the local council wasn’t the most stimulating job in the world. It had its moments (mostly when things went wrong), but it wasn’t what you might call an exciting environment. That hadn’t bothered him before, but now he felt like he wanted something more, something that was more of a challenge. It was amazing how one person could come into your life and shake things up so much, transforming your outlook and world view in a heartbeat, colouring the grey and opening your eyes to what was possible. He glanced at his watch. It would be lunch break in the school, but he resisted calling Amy. He didn’t want to bother her at work – no doubt she would be busy preparing for the afternoon’s lessons, or discussing issues with fellow teachers.

Will caught the eye of John, a colleague, who had clocked him daydreaming, so he turned his attention back to the screen and began typing out the job advert he had been halfway through for the past hour.

Then his phone rang. His heart leapt when he saw the caller ID. It was Amy.

‘Hey,’ she said, ‘thought I’d give you a quick call while I was free.’

‘Amy, it’s great to hear from you.’ John was looking interested, so Will moved away from his desk and out onto the stairwell. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

‘Good to hear it,’ she joked.

Will tapped his fingers absentmindedly against the bannister. ‘So, has your day been good?’

‘Ah, not bad, you know. Some of the kids were a bit naughty, but that’s nothing unusual. How about you?’

‘Pretty dull, to be honest. I’m supposed to be drafting a job pack, but I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking about the other day, you know, at the zoo and the London Eye. I’m still buzzing from it, and I guess everything else seems boring.’

‘I know what you need.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Something to look forward to. Which is why I’ve planned something amazing for tomorrow, if you can make it.’

‘Really?’

‘Do you know I mentioned about a parachute jump?’

‘Well… yeah.’

‘I forgot to mention that I’m a qualified instructor.’

‘O-k-a-y.’

‘Which means that I’m qualified to do tandem skydives.’

‘I’m not sure I like where this is going.’

‘And I’d like you to accompany me on a skydive tomorrow afternoon.’

Will could hear the smile in her voice, while he just felt sick. ‘But, don’t you have to train for weeks before doing something like that?’

‘Not with a tandem jump. You only have to do about fifteen minutes preparation.’

‘Right.’

‘It’s all very safe,’ Amy said. ‘You’d be strapped onto me, and I’d be the one doing everything. You’d just be there to enjoy the ride.’

‘Enjoy the ride,’ he repeated. ‘But doesn’t it take time to organise this sort of thing? We’d have to book in somewhere.’

‘My friend runs the club where I jump,’ she explained. ‘I’ve already checked with him, and we’re all good to go, two o’clock tomorrow. Sorry it’s such late notice, but they’ve managed to squeeze us in, and weekends are booked for weeks in advance. I know you said it’s usually easy for you to get time off, so I went for it. He’s even given me a big discount. So, are you ready for your biggest challenge yet, Mr Holden?’

Everything about the jump scared him. But he was in love, and that proved much stronger than any fear. ‘Yes, I’m ready.’

***

‘I don’t really know what this all means,’ Emma said, as they retraced their steps back towards the train station.

‘Adrian Spencer was lying to us, for a start,’ Lizzy replied. ‘But who knows why.’

Emma stopped. ‘He knows. Let’s call him.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, let’s do it. We can meet with him somewhere public, and then ask him face to face what he’s doing.’

She pulled out her phone and dialled the number she had stored for Adrian Spencer, following his initial call those weeks ago. ‘Hi, is that Adrian? It’s Emma Holden here. I’ve decided that I am prepared to talk. I’m free now, if that’s convenient… Great, so we could meet somewhere in the centre. How about the coffee shop in Harvey’s Bookshop on Charing Cross Road, in an hour…? That’s great, see you then.’

‘Are you really sure about this?’ Lizzy said. ‘I mean, I know I’m normally the one to jump at the chance of challenging this kind of thing, but it could be risky. Not to mention the fact that there is this other person still out there, following you too.’

‘You’re right,’ said Emma. ‘I’ll call Dan. He can come too.’

***

‘Try him again.’

Emma dialled Dan’s number, but once again it cut straight through to the answer service. ‘Nothing.’ It was odd, considering that she’d spoken to him not long before and arranged to meet him in the bookshop.

‘You’re probably right, he’s stuck on the tube.’ Lizzy looked at her watch. ‘Adrian Spencer will be here any moment.’

Emma looked around. This had been a good choice of venue, in that it was very public. The small coffee-shop area was integrated with the bookstore, in an open-plan style that encouraged users to browse books while they drank. It was one of the innovative features of the newly redesigned bookshop that enabled it to succeed where other, bigger bookstores had failed in recent years. It offered something that online stores couldn’t – atmosphere. The store was a favourite for them all, and as such it felt like home territory for Emma. But still, she didn’t relish tackling Adrian Spencer without Dan’s support. ‘He’s here.’

‘Dan?’

‘No.’

Lizzy turned to see Adrian Spencer approach. He was a few minutes early. He sauntered over to them and took the seat opposite, smiling. ‘Hello there. I didn’t expect to see you too, Lizzy.’

‘Change of heart,’ Lizzy said.

‘Great, great,’ he said, delving into his bag and pulling out his notebook. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen sense.’

Lizzy had to bite her tongue.

‘So,’ he said, ‘shall we get started?’

‘Is it okay if I ask a question first?’ Emma glanced over his shoulder in the hope that Dan might appear.

‘Of course, fire away.’

‘You said you’re doing a feature for the London Daily Post.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Emma was feeling nervous – they would have to play this carefully, especially now they were on their own. She tried her best to look relaxed, wondering if her face gave away her true state. ‘Who asked you to do it?’

He looked confused – or was that defensive? ‘Well, my boss, of course. The editor.’

‘Who is…?’

He did his best not to look rattled. ‘If you want to talk to my seniors, then I’d be happy to put you in touch with them.’

‘It’s okay,’ Emma replied. ‘That won’t be necessary. How long have you worked at the newspaper?’

Now she could hear the nerves in her voice. It was surely a dead giveaway.

But Adrian Spencer didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, six, seven years.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why are you lying to us?’ Lizzy said.

He feigned shock. ‘What?’

‘You don’t work for the Post, do you?’

His eyes darted around the room. He was wondering whether to run.

Emma gathered some more courage. ‘We know you don’t work for the newspaper. We went there today. They’ve never heard of you.’

Now he smiled and held up his hands in surrender. ‘Bravo. You got me.’

Emma pressed home her advantage. ‘Who are you?’

‘Adrian Spencer,’ he replied.

‘You know what I mean. You were following me, taking photographs. Why?’

‘I’d better be going,’ he said, moving to get up. ‘Things to do, people to see.’

But as he went to rise, he was pressed back down into his chair by the man he hadn’t noticed arriving just seconds earlier: Dan.

‘An ambush.’ Adrian twisted to look up at Dan, who kept a hand on one shoulder in a way that an onlooker might interpret as simply a friendly gesture.

Dan smiled. ‘You can call it whatever you like.’

Adrian turned back to Emma and Lizzy. ‘Okay. I’ll tell you. I don’t want there to be any animosity between us. I’m a researcher, working for Firework Films.’

Emma shook her head. ‘I should have known.’ Firework Films – the production company that had wanted to make the tell-all programme about them. Well, if this was the way they went about conducting their research, then she was doubly glad she had dismissed their offer.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know I’ve probably gone about this the wrong way. I should have been upfront with you. To be honest, I don’t know why I used that cover story. It was stupid, I understand that.’

Emma didn’t want to hear it. ‘You wanted to cover your bases, in case I said no to Diana Saunders about collaborating on the drama documentary. You wanted to get quotes from us, and that way you could still go ahead with the programme, without our direct input. You figured that we would be more likely to provide a few quotes for a newspaper article. And if I’d said yes to Diana, then no doubt someone else from Firework Films would have been liaising with us, and we’d never connect you and your shady practices with them.’

He smiled back. ‘You know, I wish you were as helpful as your father.’

‘What?’

Again he smiled. ‘It’s just that if you were all as open as he was, it would make the programme so much better, so much more powerful, to really know what was going on in your heads.’

Emma felt sick. He had to be lying. ‘He didn’t talk to you. He wouldn’t have done that.’

‘Oh he did, Emma – on more than one occasion. But don’t worry, he was generously reimbursed for his time. Generously reimbursed.’ He went to stand, and Emma nodded at Dan to let him go. She was reeling at the revelation. But Adrian Spencer hadn’t quite finished. ‘Next time you see him, pass on my thanks on behalf of Firework Films.’

13

‘I still can’t believe he would have done it. I just feel so angry.’

Emma, Dan and Lizzy had returned to their apartment to regroup. It was late afternoon, and they were in the kitchen, sitting around the table, all still reeling from what Adrian Spencer had told them. The thought that Emma’s dad had spoken to that man, for money, really hurt.

‘It does explain the note that he left Miranda,’ Lizzy said. ‘About betraying us all.’

‘Which makes it sound like he regrets doing it,’ Dan added. ‘Try not to be too hard on him.’

‘You think that’s why he ran away?’ mused Emma. ‘Because he realised what he’d done, and just couldn’t face us?’

Dan shrugged. ‘Maybe. Look, I’m not making excuses for him – well, maybe I am – but Adrian Spencer was extremely persistent, and he was offering money to someone who’s been really worried about his income. You know how he’s been stressing about losing his clients, and Miranda mentioned that he’d said about not being able to support her and the new baby, just before he left. I know he’s brought some of this on himself, but the guy is obviously really suffering.’

‘Your dad has been under a lot of pressure,’ Lizzy acknowledged. ‘He might have just got tempted, and then really regretted it.’

Emma could see how it might have happened.

Just a few minutes of your time…

I can recompense you…

This way we can make sure we get the story straight…

‘You’re probably right. But running away isn’t going to solve anything. It just makes things worse. He’s abandoned Miranda and caused even more hurt. Can’t he see that?’

‘Maybe,’ suggested Dan, ‘now that he’s run, he doesn’t know how to come back and make things right. He might feel too ashamed about it all. He also might genuinely believe that we don’t want to see him again.’

Emma shook her head. ‘I just wish he’d get in contact, or turn his phone back on. At least we’d know he’s safe.’

‘Safe?’ Lizzy said. ‘You think he might not be?’

‘Oh, I’m sure he’s fine, Lizzy. But we don’t know that for certain. If he is in such a state, then we don’t know what he might do. People can do really irrational things when they’re not thinking straight.’

‘It’s best to stay positive,’ Dan advised. ‘We’ve got enough to worry about, without thinking the worst of your dad. Just assume he’ll get in touch when he’s ready to, and when he does, you can take it from there. I’m sure it won’t be long before you hear from him. After all, he’s got a wonderful family and a baby on the way. He won’t want to lose that.’

‘You’re right,’ Emma replied. ‘We’ve got to deal with the other things, as much as I want to sort out Dad.’

‘Do you think that Adrian Spencer will leave us alone now?’ Lizzy asked.

‘Hopefully he will, now that we’ve also complained directly to Firework Films.’

As soon as they’d got back to the apartment they had called the production company. When Emma had explained what had happened, the woman had sounded understanding about the situation, and had said all the right things about making sure that they wouldn’t bother them again, but there was no promise about whether the programme was still due to go ahead. Perhaps, sometime in the future, the programme would air. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but Emma hoped that everyone would be in a much better place by then, and able to withstand the bad memories and unwanted attention.

‘At least if he crawls back into his hole that’ll be one thing off our backs,’ Lizzy said. ‘But obviously the big worry is still this other person pretending to be Stephen Myers.’

‘I still can’t believe he followed us to Windsor,’ Dan said. ‘He must have tailed us from first thing that morning, otherwise how would he have known we were going there? To think that he’s probably been stalking the apartment and the police aren’t interested.’

‘I know,’ Emma said. ‘David Sherborn only started following us from the train station after I texted him to let him know where we were going, but this guy was already there when he arrived. He had to have followed us from here.’

‘Creepy,’ Lizzy said. ‘It’s just like last time.’

‘Except that this time we’re not just helpless victims,’ Dan said. ‘Last time, you didn’t know anything about what was happening and who was involved. But this time, because we enlisted David Sherborn’s help – because we took the initiative – we at least have some information on this person. We know that he knows Guy Roberts.’

‘And we also know that it isn’t actually Stephen Myers who is doing this,’ Lizzy added.

‘Exactly,’ Dan said. ‘And even though it was pretty crazy to think that it was Stephen Myers, someone wanted us to think that. If we hadn’t done what we did, identifying the person who is doing this, then there might still be that element of doubt. Especially given what Peter Myers had said to you, Lizzy, about Stephen being alive.’

‘Which he said just to scare us,’ Lizzy said.

‘That’s right.’

‘So the next step is to go and see Guy Roberts,’ Emma said. ‘And find out what he knows about this person.’

‘Do you think he’ll tell us?’ Lizzy asked. ‘I mean, we can’t assume he’ll cooperate. We know what kind of person he is.’

‘I agree it might be difficult. I’m not assuming anything.’

‘And we can’t particularly trust him either,’ Dan replied, ‘but we haven’t really got any other options, have we?’

‘No,’ Lizzy said.

‘So the question is, when?’

Emma glanced at the clock. ‘How about after we eat?’

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. ‘Not tomorrow morning? I thought we might want to sleep on it.’

‘He’s more likely to be in at night, don’t you think?’ Emma replied.

‘And I want to be there too,’ Dan added. ‘Work gets in the way again tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ Lizzy said. ‘At least it gets it over with. So, we eat first and then go and see him. Who votes for a chippy tea?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Emma said. ‘Although let’s eat now, before I lose my appetite thinking about having to see that man again.’

***

‘Emma, how nice to see you.’ Guy Roberts stood at the front door of his exclusive Notting Hill home: the place where, just four weeks ago, Emma had walked out on her dream of starring in the movie that he was casting. She hadn’t regretted it for a moment. And now, seeing this man, acting all friendly after everything he had done, cemented the belief that she had definitely made the right decision.

She would rather walk away from the business than be associated with people like Guy Roberts – or Diana Saunders, for that matter.

‘Can we come in for a moment?’ she asked.

Only then did Guy look at her companions, as if he’d just noticed them. ‘Certainly. Come on through.’

They followed him past the framed movie posters, and into the lounge with the piano in the corner. Emma had already told Dan and Lizzy how amazing the house was, and it was as good as she remembered. The place was pristine and resembled an upmarket show home.

‘Take a seat,’ said Guy. ‘Can I get you some drinks?’

Emma remained standing. ‘We’re okay, thanks.’

He looked at Dan, and then Lizzy. ‘Are you sure?’

Dan was stony-faced. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

‘I’m okay too,’ Lizzy added.

‘Right, okay.’ For a second Guy seemed a little slighted at the rejection of his hospitality. ‘So, what can I do for you, Emma? I’m afraid if you’ve changed your mind about the movie role, we’ve already found a more than adequate replacement. You’ve heard of Jenna Dawson?’

‘I’ve heard of her, yes.’

Jenna Dawson was an up-and-coming soap actress, about the same age as Emma. There were definite parallels in their careers. But it seemed that the big break that was once Emma’s was now hers.

Guy smiled. ‘Then you’ll know that she’s a real talent. I think she’s got what it takes to go right to the top.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be perfect for the part.’ Emma interpreted Guy’s comment as a thinly veiled criticism. She was in little doubt that Guy Roberts would still be bitter about her pulling out of the movie, even though he had been the one to blame. But she couldn’t rise to the bait. They were here for a single reason – to find out who the stalker was. And as Guy was the only person who could tell them what they needed to know, it wouldn’t be sensible to be anything other than polite to him.

‘Oh, she will,’ he said. ‘She’s a true professional.’

Emma continued to hold her tongue, but she could see Lizzy bristling with anger. ‘The reason we’re here is nothing to do with the movie,’ she explained. ‘We need your help.’

Guy looked amused. ‘My help? Go on.’

‘Someone came to see you yesterday.’

‘A few people came to see me yesterday.’

‘A man, in his mid-twenties, tall, sandy brown hair – he came to see you yesterday afternoon. We’d like to know who he is.’

Guy took a moment to reply. ‘Two questions – one, why do you want to know? And two, how do you know who has been visiting my home?’

‘Someone has been following me,’ Emma replied.

‘Another stalker! Oh Emma, you do attract them, don’t you?’

She ignored the jibe. ‘We know it is the person who came to see you. We know he visited you because a friend of ours was following him.’ She wasn’t going to give away David Sherborn’s involvement: he didn’t need or deserve to be part of this.

‘You don’t think I’m something to do with this, do you?’

‘We just want to know who this person is,’ Dan said.

‘I’ve not done anything wrong.’

‘As Dan said, we just want to know who he is,’ Emma said. ‘Please, tell us.’

‘Okay, I’ll tell you. His name is Scott Goulding.’

Emma breathed an inward sigh of relief that he had given them a name. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’

Guy snorted. ‘Hardly. He’s a real headache. The man thinks he’s acting’s next big thing, but I’m afraid he’s more than a little delusional. Since auditioning for me six months ago – and failing miserably – he refuses to take no for an answer. I’m this far,’ he said, indicating with his fingers, ‘from calling the police and reporting him. He was back yesterday, begging to be given a part in one of my new projects. I told him there was no chance. I’m running a business, not a charity for third-rate actors.’

So he was an actor. ‘What do you know about him?’

‘Very little, but more than I’d like.’

‘Do you have any contact details?’

‘I may have.’

‘Please…’ Emma said.

‘Okay, okay. I have his address. Just wait here while I get it.’

‘I really don’t trust him,’ Lizzy whispered, once Guy was out of the room.

‘Me neither,’ Emma replied.

But already Guy was back. ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing Emma a piece of paper. The address was a flat in North London. There was also a mobile number. ‘So what exactly has he been doing, then?’

‘He’s been stalking me, pretending to be Stephen Myers.’

‘Method acting.’ Guy nodded. ‘Maybe I misjudged his abilities.’

14

They called the police as soon as they got back to the apartment. Armed with a name and an address, plus the evidence from David Sherborn, they believed that action could now be taken. Two hours later, just on ten o’clock, two uniformed female officers arrived to take a statement.

But it was an ultimately frustrating experience. The message was still essentially the same – there wasn’t enough evidence at this point to take things further. The officers challenged their assumption that there was a connection between what had happened in Cornwall and the man Emma and Dan believed was following them in Windsor. And it was right that they had no evidence that this man, Scott Goulding, was the one who’d been pretending to be Stephen Myers. In addition, nothing overly sinister had occurred since that episode at the Minack. So again, the message was one of vigilance. Be on their guard. Report anything suspicious. The officers did promise, however, that if Emma or Dan saw this man again, they would pay him a visit.

‘Do you fancy watching a movie?’ Dan asked, as they all settled down in the living room.

‘Something light,’ Lizzy said, stretching back onto the sofa. ‘A rom-com maybe. I need to be taken away from what’s going on.’

They decided to go for a comedy, but Emma couldn’t concentrate. Halfway through the film she got up. ‘I’m going to call Miranda,’ she said, moving into the kitchen.

She thought explaining their theory about Edward’s disappearance might help to reassure Miranda that it wasn’t anything to do with her or the baby, but by the end of the call Miranda still seemed very down. Then Emma called Will, to update him on what had happened with Adrian Spencer. He was out with Amy having a meal. Amid all this renewed torment, Will’s blossoming relationship with Amy was the one bright spot, and it was so good to hear him so happy.

‘You’re doing what?’ exclaimed Emma. ‘A parachute jump!’ She couldn’t believe that her brother – the man who for as long as she could remember got vertigo at the top of a flight of stairs – would jump out of an aeroplane tomorrow. He didn’t even sound nervous. The tandem jump would take place at a small airfield just north of the M25.

Emma returned to Dan and Lizzy. ‘You won’t believe what Will is doing tomorrow. A parachute jump.’.

‘Wow,’ Dan said, ‘I didn‘t see that one coming.’

‘It must be love,’ Lizzy said.

‘Or insanity,’ Dan joked.

For a moment it broke the tension. But they all knew that the serious situation needed talking about. Emma found herself standing at the window, looking down at the street from behind the curtain. There was no one loitering outside. ‘I can’t believe this is happening again.’

Dan came over and placed an arm around her. ‘It’s going to be okay, Em, I promise.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

He pulled her closer. ‘It will be. I know it doesn’t feel like there’s an end to this, but we’ll come out of the other side.’

‘Ever since Will’s phone call on the Hen Night, it’s felt like we’re trapped in this nightmare – as if we’re in a dark tunnel, walking, sometimes running, blind. Then there’s a flicker of light ahead, and you think there’s a way out, but the more you move towards it, the further away it seems to get. I thought I was handling this, but now I’m not so sure.’

‘Oh, Em, it will be okay.’ Lizzy was standing on her other side. Now the three of them were looking down at the street, as the film continued without an audience. ‘So what do we do? Watch and wait? Or find out what Scott Goulding is playing at?’

That was the question they had all been avoiding since the police left. Should they do nothing, or something?

‘I don’t know,’ Emma replied. ‘I just don’t know. It could be dangerous, just turning up and challenging him.’

‘I agree,’ Dan said.

Lizzy stepped away from the window and flicked the lights on and the TV off. ‘Then we just sit back?’

Dan shook his head. ‘No.’

His response took Emma by surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We have his telephone number. Why don’t we call him, and let him know that he’s been found out? Tell him to leave you alone, and let that be the end of it.’

Emma wasn’t so sure. ‘You think he’ll listen to us?’

Dan shrugged. ‘Maybe if we pretend to be the police.’

‘I like it!’ Lizzy replied. ‘Just warn him off. It might work.’

‘It’s still risky.’ Emma directed the comment at Dan. ‘It might backfire.’

‘In what way?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘The alternative,’ Dan said, ‘is to let him carry on thinking that he’s getting away with it, which surely is more likely to mean that he’ll carry on doing it. And then what – we wait until something worse happens before the police will take action?’

‘Okay,’ Emma said. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘I don’t mind doing the talking,’ Dan offered. ‘Shall we do this now?’

Emma nodded. ‘Why not – get it over with.’

‘And then it might be over,’ Lizzy said.

They went into the kitchen and planned what Dan was going to say – he would keep it professional and to the point. A few minutes later, at eleven o’clock, Dan dialled the number that Guy Roberts had given them. He looked at Emma and Lizzy. ‘It’s ringing.’

Emma felt heartsick as she watched Dan. But just as she began to relax, thinking that Scott Goulding wasn’t going to answer, Dan began talking through the script that they had planned.

‘Hello, is that Mr Scott Goulding?’ He’d moderated his voice, lowering the tone slightly, just in case the guy knew what he normally sounded like. He nodded at Emma and Lizzy, indicating that they had the right man. ‘This is Detective Inspector Mark Gasnier from the Metropolitan Police.’ They’d decided to use his name for authenticity. ‘We have reason to believe that you have been causing a nuisance to a member of the public, Emma Holden, including following her and sending communications that could be construed as being menacing in nature. This is an informal warning on our part to stop doing this. We will be watching the situation carefully, and have asked Emma to report any suspicious behaviour to us immediately, in which case we will take stronger action. Do you understand?... that’s very sensible. I hope we don’t need to speak about this again. Goodbye.’

‘Well?’ Emma said. ‘What did he say?’

Dan placed the phone on the desk. ‘He said that he was sorry, and that he’d stop doing what he’d been doing. I think it worked.’

***

Emma woke with a start. She’d been having another nightmare – it had been the wedding dream again. It had just got to the part where Dan had morphed into Stuart. This time he had handed her a letter: the letter given to her by Stuart’s sister.

You really need to read this.

She had just slid a finger under the seal when the noise had woken her up.

Dan was moving quickly around the bedroom. ‘Someone’s knocking at the front door,’ he said, pulling on his trousers and hunting out a shirt. ‘I was just getting out of the shower. It’s only seven thirty.’

Emma swung her legs out of bed and grabbed some clothes as Dan moved into the hallway. ‘Who is it?’ she heard him say. He came back into the room. ‘There’s a man outside. You think I should open it?’

Again the person knocked.

‘Only on the security chain, don’t open it fully.’

They both moved back to the door.

Emma spoke. ‘Who’s there?’

She looked through the spyhole, recognising the visitor just as he replied. ‘My name’s Scott Goulding. I’m here to explain, and apologise.’

Emma and Dan looked at each another, asking the same question with their eyes. Again, Emma looked through the spyhole. Now Scott was standing further back from the door, his hands on his hips, looking towards the floor. ‘Let’s open it,’ she whispered to Dan. After a second, he nodded.

‘Thanks, thanks,’ Scott said, as Emma opened the door. ‘I really need to explain everything.’

Dan stepped across his path as Emma retreated into the apartment. ‘Wait a second. If we let you in here, you don’t try anything, okay?’

‘Of course I won’t.’ Scott held up his hands. ‘I’m here to make peace, not cause any more trouble.’

They let him inside and into the kitchen. ‘Take a seat,’ Dan said. Scott sat down at the table, but Emma and Dan remained standing. ‘Go on then,’ said Dan. ‘You said you wanted to explain things.’

‘I’m… well, you know, my name is Scott Goulding, and I’m… an actor.’

Emma watched on, her back against the sink, as Scott seemed to struggle for the right words. He looked genuinely embarrassed, maybe even a little scared. So much so that her fear of him dissipated immediately – she felt sorry for him.

He looked up at her. ‘I’ve been following you for the past couple of weeks.’

‘Pretending to be Stephen Myers,’ Emma said. ‘Why?’

He shook his head, as if lamenting his actions. ‘I did it because someone asked me to.’

Emma hadn’t expected that. ‘What?’

‘Somebody asked me to follow you, and pretend to be Stephen Myers.’

‘Who? Who asked you to do this?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You must know.’

‘I don’t, I don’t. They contacted me via my website at first, and then through an anonymous email account. They’ve never told me their name.’

‘But why did they want you to do it?’ Dan asked.

‘They said they were auditioning people for a production about you,’ he said to Emma. ‘And they wanted me to act out the part of Stephen Myers, to see if I was suitable.’

Dan and Emma exchanged glances. They both knew what the other was thinking.

‘So you went along with it, pretending to be Stephen Myers, following me around, scaring me at the Minack. That was you, wasn’t it, in the toilets, standing outside the cubicle?’

‘I’m really sorry. It all got out of hand.’

‘You dressed like him – you even had the scar.’

‘I know a make-up artist. And the people who contacted me, they gave me details of what to wear, how to look. I looked just like him. I even went to see his mother, and she thought I was him – she actually thought I was Stephen Myers. I really regret it now.’

Emma thought about Margaret Myers. The poor woman was already delusional. Something like that could tip her over the edge. It was so cruel. ‘How did you know where we were?’ she asked, turning her attention back to his actions against them. ‘How did you know we were in Cornwall, staying at those apartments?’

‘They told me. They told me exactly where to go.’

‘But how did they know?’

‘I don’t know, honestly. They would just send me an email, with the instructions and the script.’

‘The script?’ This was getting even more bizarre.

‘Yes, there was a script. I acted out the script. I’m really sorry; this has all got totally out of hand. It’s just been so difficult for me for the past few years, struggling to get work, going from one bit part to another. I’ve had to do bar jobs just to pay the rent. They were offering me a chance, and I took it, but then it all became much more serious than I wanted. And now the police are involved. Please, I’m so sorry. Can you just let it drop?’

‘As long as you leave Emma alone,’ Dan said.

‘Yes, of course I will. I promise this is the end of it.’

‘It had better be,’ Dan replied. ‘Otherwise the police are definitely going to want to speak with you again.’

‘I know, I know. But I swear, no more. I’m really sorry.’

She didn’t know why, but Emma believed him.

After Scott Goulding left, Emma paced up and down in the hallway, thinking about what had just been said. ‘Making a production about me, auditioning for the part of Stephen Myers, using a script – it’s got to be them, surely.’

Dan nodded. Emma could see he was angry. ‘Firework Films.’

15

‘Do you want me to call in sick?’ Dan asked. ‘I will do, if you want me to be around today. The guys can do without me for a day.’

Emma shook her head. ‘No, you go in. I’ll be okay, honestly.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Definitely.’

Dan didn’t look convinced. ‘Okay, but if anything happens, you’ve got to call me right away.’

‘I will. ’

After Dan had left for the office, Emma called Lizzy and Will and explained what had happened. Will was preparing for the parachute jump, but Lizzy had a free day, so promised to call over later that morning.

‘How about we go to Firework Films, and have it out with them,’ Lizzy said during the call.

But Emma explained that she and Dan had decided the best thing to do was walk away from the situation and move on.

Emma changed into her jogging gear. She hadn’t been for a run since the trip to Cornwall, and now she longed to stretch her legs and push her body physically. The air was cooler than it had been lately, although it was still sunny. As she pounded down Marylebone High Street towards Regent’s Park, she considered the current situation. It did feel as if she had finally reached the light at the tunnel’s end. They had successfully smoked out the stalker, and revealed him to be far less threatening than they had all feared. And they’d uncovered the plot against them by the production company. They had taken these people on, and won. It felt good.

Once in the park she stepped up the pace, powering past the other joggers and dog walkers, feeling her legs burn as she reached the summit of Primrose Hill. There she stopped and admired the view. It seemed a lifetime ago that David Sherborn, masquerading as Eric, had approached her at that very spot. Yet it was only a matter of weeks. Hands on her hips, she caught her breath. As she gazed at the London skyline, her thoughts turned to her father. He was out there, somewhere. She had every right to be angry with him, but she just felt sad. She pulled out her mobile and dialled his number once again. As with the other times, it went straight through to the answer service. ‘Dad, please come home. We’re not mad at you about anything. We just want you back here. I need you. The wedding is next week. I really want you to be there to give me away. You have to be there.’

The lie about the wedding had been a spur-of-the-moment act designed to succeed where her past pleas had failed. But now she had said it, she longed for it to be true.

Maybe once the wedding happened, the dream would stop.

You really need to read this.

Stuart Harris’s letter – it was still in her sock drawer. She exhaled and looked up towards the sky. Maybe she should read it. Setting off back down the hill, now running even faster than before, she was unable to shake the letter from her thoughts.

***

‘Hey,’ Lizzy smiled, as Emma answered the door. They hugged and Lizzy followed Emma through into the apartment. ‘I hope you’ve got the kettle on, because I’m parched.’

‘Just boiling now.’

‘So, how are you?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I can’t believe Scott Goulding just turned up like that. Dan’s fake police call must have really spooked him.’

‘It did.’ Emma poured the boiling water into the teapot.

‘You think this is the end of it?’

Emma nodded. ‘I think so. I think Scott’s days as a Stephen Myers impersonator are over. It sounds like he got caught up in something that got more serious than he expected. I believed him when he said he was sorry.’

‘To be honest, Em, I was so relieved when you told me who had been doing this, and why. It just made it all feel so much less sinister.’

‘I agree.’

‘You sure you’re okay?’ Lizzy quizzed. ‘You look like you’re worrying about something.’

Emma smiled ruefully. ‘You know me too well. I nearly opened Stuart’s letter before.’

‘Oh, right. What stopped you?’

‘I don’t know. I guess maybe I’m scared of what it’s going to say.’

‘I can totally understand that. But you do want to open it, don’t you?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because I know that you did care about Stuart, and you wouldn’t want to deny him his chance to say goodbye.’

Emma closed her eyes. ‘I feel as though if I do open it, I’d be cheating on Dan.’

‘But it wouldn’t be like that, Em.’

‘I know, but that’s how it feels.’

‘Then don’t open it. Let me do it. Where is it?’

‘On our bed.’

Lizzy got up from the table.

‘Lizzy!’

But she was already heading for the bedroom. ‘Now,’ she said, returning with the letter, ‘shall I open it?’

After a second, Emma nodded.

‘This will be part of moving on,’ Lizzy said, sliding her finger under the seal. ‘Closing that chapter in your life and starting afresh.’

Emma didn’t feel anything like certain about this. But Lizzy was right – if she didn’t open the letter, how would she ever truly be able to move on? There would always be that thought – what had Stuart said? And yes, deep down she did want to give Stuart his opportunity to say what he wanted to.

Lizzy opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph. As she examined it, her forehead creasing, Emma read the handwritten message on the back.

I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist! Just wanted to show you how happy my brother was with his fiancée Sally before you came back on the scene and ruined it all.

Fiancée? Stuart hadn’t told her about that.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Lizzy said, still examining the photo. ‘Tell me that’s not who I think it is.’ She passed it to Emma. Stuart was smiling at the camera, his arm around a girl, who was also smiling broadly.

It was Sally – Stuart’s fiancée.

But they knew her under a different name: Amy, Will’s new girlfriend.

PART FOUR

16

Will took a gulp from his second coffee of the day, before walking into the bathroom and looking in the mirror. ‘You can do this, you can do it.’ He didn’t feel entirely convinced. In fact, first thing that morning he had nearly called Amy to postpone the jump. He’d thought up some pathetic excuse – he was feeling slightly unwell, so it was best to wait until he was a hundred percent. But ultimately he’d resisted calling her, and instead tried some self-motivational techniques he’d once read in a magazine in the dentist’s waiting room. It was now twelve thirty. Amy would be arriving in half an hour to drive them to the airfield. Then there would be no going back. Amy would offer him a get-out, that was certain, but he wouldn’t be able to take it. He spent the next twenty-five minutes listening to his favourite rock tracks, turning the volume up so loud that at first he didn’t hear Amy’s knock. When he realised, he scrambled for the volume control and raced towards the door.

‘Hey,’ Amy said with a smile. ‘I thought you were ignoring me.’

‘No, no, of course not.’ Will felt much more out of breath than he should have been.

‘So, are you ready?’

He swallowed his nerves. ‘Yes, I’m ready.’

***

‘I don’t understand this,’ Emma said, staring at the photograph. ‘The girl Will is going out with was Stuart’s fiancée? And she’s pretending to be someone else?’

‘Are we sure it’s the same person?’

The question had to be asked, but it was clear – the girl in the photograph was the same girl whom Will was dating. Although Amy had been going out with Will for only a few weeks, Emma had met her on three occasions, and Lizzy had seen her twice. And there was no mistaking her. ‘We both know it’s her, don’t we?’

Lizzy nodded. ‘Then what do we do?’

Emma shook her head. What was all this about? ‘Well, we’ve got to tell Will, of course. But I’ve got to tell him in the right way. You know how he feels about her – he’s in love. The other day he told me she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. So it’s going to devastate him when he finds out who she really is, and that she’s been lying.’

‘I know. I just don’t get it, Em. What is this woman doing? What’s her agenda?’

‘I’ve got no idea, but I know someone who might be able to shed some light on it all.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Charlotte, Stuart’s sister.’

‘So we speak with her first, and then decide how to break the news to Will?’

‘I think it’s all we can do. We need to try and find out more about who she is before we do anything else.’

‘But Charlotte Harris – she’s not exactly on friendly terms with you. What she did – giving you the photograph, pretending it was from Stuart, and the thing she wrote on the back – it was pretty nasty. She might refuse to talk to us.’

‘She might, but I don’t think so. I think she wants to tell me more, for me to ask about what happened. Maybe the photograph was bait.’

‘You think she knows that this girl is seeing Will?’

‘No idea, but we need to find out.’

***

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist opening the letter.’ Charlotte Harris took a seat opposite Emma and Lizzy in the same café where they’d met the previous day. Emma had been right – she was more than happy to meet with them – and just an hour after the initial call, here they were face to face.

Emma looked at her closely. She was trying to look triumphant, but behind that bravado Emma could sense something else – sadness, possibly. This might explain why she looked so much older than her years. Her face seemed tense, her eyes reddened.

‘Why did you do it, Charlotte?’ asked Emma.

‘As I said,’ said Charlotte slowly, ‘I wanted you to know how happy my brother was before you came back on the scene.’

‘You make it sound like it was my decision to come back into Stuart’s life. But it wasn’t. It was the other way around.’

Charlotte looked affronted. ‘You led him on.’

‘I didn’t. I explained to you last time we met, I didn’t lead him on.’

Again, this didn’t look like the answer Charlotte wanted to hear.

‘He didn’t tell me that he was engaged,’ Emma insisted. ‘He mentioned he’d been seeing somebody, but he made out that it wasn’t serious.’

Charlotte snorted. ‘Wasn’t serious? They were due to get married today!’

Emma was stunned. ‘What? Today was supposed to be their wedding day?’

‘Yes. It had been planned for almost two years. So all that time you were with Stuart, Sally was looking forward to what should have been the best day of her life. When Stuart died it totally devastated her. It’s devastated us all, but for her it’s worse – Stuart was her future. And that died too, along with my brother. Now she feels like she has nothing to live for.’

‘I’m really sorry for her. I am.’

‘Two days after Stuart died, she tried to take an overdose. The only reason she didn’t die is because I happened to come around to her flat and find her just a few minutes after she’d taken the tablets. The hospital staff saved her.’

Emma thought back to the girl that Will had introduced them to. The confident, energetic, happy girl called Amy. She didn’t bear any resemblance to Sally. For a second it made her question again whether the two girls were indeed the same person. But there was no doubt. It was time to ask the question. ‘Do you know that Sally is dating my brother?’

Charlotte looked genuinely shocked, and then disbelieving. ‘You’re lying.’

‘I’m not.’

‘It’s true,’ Lizzy added. ‘The girl in the photograph with Stuart, she’s the girl that Will is going out with.’

Charlotte was silent.

‘She said her name was Amy,’ Emma continued. ‘None of us had any idea who she really was until we saw the photograph this morning.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Charlotte finally. ‘She did have a sister called Amy, but she died when she was a baby. Why would she…’

‘We thought you might know,’ Emma said. ‘We thought you might be able to explain what was going on.’

Charlotte put a hand to her head. ‘Why would she date your brother, why…?’

Emma tried a different tact. ‘Tell me about Sally. She said to Will that she’s a sports teacher at a comprehensive school, is that right?’

‘Yes, yes, that’s right.’

‘And she’s very adventurous – travelling, skydiving, things like that.’

‘Yes, she is. For their honeymoon, they were going to Nepal, trekking in the mountains; it was going to be wonderful – a real adventure. Stuart had been really looking forward to it.’

‘How did they meet?’

‘At a screenwriting course. Stuart wanted to expand his options, you know, from just acting to working more behind the scenes, too.’

A sickening realisation hit Emma. She sensed that Lizzy had the same thought. ‘Sally is a screenwriter?’

‘She’s had a few things on the radio – plays and sketches. But she always wanted to go into television and film. It just hasn’t happened for her yet.’

They sent me the script.

Sally wrote scripts.

Emma turned to Lizzy. ‘She knew we were going to Cornwall. I mentioned it one day when we were all together. And the trip to Windsor, Will knew about that and he probably told her. She told Scott Goulding where to go.’

‘What’s going on?’ Charlotte asked. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m only beginning to understand it myself. We need to call Will.’

She pulled the mobile out of her pocket, but before she could dial Will, it rang. She didn’t recognise the number.

‘Emma. It’s Scott Goulding. This morning I got an email from the person, and I really thought I needed to tell you about it. The message is really weird.’

‘Go on.’

‘They thanked me for my work, but said they would no longer require my services because I’m not involved in the final scene, a double suicide, which is being shot today. That’s all that the message said.’

Emma cut off the call, waves of sickness swelling and rolling inside her. This time she did dial Will.

Lizzy saw the horror in her friend’s face. ‘What is it, Em? What’s happened?’

Will wasn’t answering. ‘It’s Will,’ she said. ‘I think she’s planning to kill him.’

‘What?’

‘The tandem parachute jump. I think she’s planning to commit suicide, and take Will with her.’

17

‘How are you feeling?’ Amy asked, as they approached the airfield. ‘Are you still sure you want to go through with this?’

Will was staring out of the window, looking at the strip of tarmac that would be their launching point. He’d felt better, but Amy’s relaxed manner helped to contain his nerves. After all, he would be strapped to her the whole time – she was the one who would be dictating everything – the timing and execution of the jump, the opening of the parachute, the direction of their descent, and the landing. All he had to do is enjoy the ride. ‘I’m fine,’ he said eventually. ‘I still want to do it.’

‘Good, that’s good.’

Will thought about sending a text message to Emma. Not really a goodbye message, but you never knew, did you? But he couldn’t find his mobile. He must have left it at home.

They turned left through the entrance and up the main driveway to a small car park, where only three other vehicles were parked. The airfield wasn’t much more than the take-off and landing area. Will could see only a single plane – a flimsy-looking craft that didn’t fill him with confidence. There was a small prefabricated building in front of them, which looked like something from a prisoner-of-war camp.

‘That’s where the briefing room is,’ Amy explained, yanking up the handbrake. ‘There are also changing rooms and toilets.’

‘I’ll need the toilets, probably more than once,’ Will joked as he undid his seat belt. The next strap that would be wrapped around him wouldn’t be so familiar.

He expected Amy to laugh, but she didn’t.

‘You ready then?’ she asked.

Suddenly she seemed so serious. But that was probably a good thing. If you were going to put your life in the hands of someone else, surely it was better if that person was taking things seriously and being professional about it all.

Inside the building they were greeted by a tall well-built man about Will’s age. ‘This is Harvey,’ Amy said. ‘He’ll be flying the plane.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Harvey held out a large hand.

‘You too.’ Will’s hand was shaking as he brought it up to greet him.

‘So I hear this is your first time doing a jump?’

Will nodded.

‘Don’t worry,’ Harvey said, ‘it’ll be absolutely fine. You’re in safe hands, I promise. I’ve been doing this for years, and my colleague here, she’s a fantastic instructor and jumper.’

‘Good, that’s good.’

For the next fifteen minutes, Amy talked Will through the pre-jump training. Again, her professional persona had taken over, and there was no room for informal chat. They covered all the necessary issues, which most importantly included how to touch down safely. It was the one part of the jump where Will had to ensure that he positioned himself correctly, rather than merely relying on Amy. She also talked him through exactly what would happen, in what order, from take-off to landing. There would be no surprises.

Will watched Amy as they changed into their suits. ‘Thank you. For making me feel so good.’

Amy looked up. ‘Don’t mention it. I do this all the time. You get to know how to give people the power to enjoy it.’

‘No, I don’t mean about the jump,’ he said. ‘I mean about everything.’

‘Right.’

‘I mean, I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but you’ve totally transformed my life. I was in such a bad place before you came along. But now, I just feel – well, I feel alive. And it’s all because of you: because of how amazing you are. I really do think you’ve changed me for the better, forever.’

Amy’s smile seemed tinged with sadness. ‘I’m glad, Will. That’s a really lovely thing of you to say.’

‘I know it’s early days,’ Will continued. ‘But I really think that this is the start of something really special.’ He looked at her for some sign. ‘At least I hope it is.’

Amy just looked at him.

Seeing her reaction, Will regretted saying that. ‘I’m sorry; I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I? I don’t want to scare you off.’

She came over and hugged him, then kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘You’re a good man, Will. Don’t forget it.’

Then she went back to preparing her gear.

***

‘It’s there!’ Emma shouted. ‘Just up ahead.’

It had taken them nearly an hour to reach the airfield, speeding most of the way. Thank goodness Will had told Emma the previous night where the parachute jump was taking place. A quick check on the internet for directions, and they’d sped off in Lizzy’s car, picking up Dan en route. The journey had been painful. Will still wasn’t answering his phone, and the number for the airfield didn’t work.

Emma craned her neck in an attempt to spot the plane. ‘Please, please, I hope we’re not too late.’

‘I can’t see anything in the air,’ Dan said from the backseat.

Emma couldn’t see anything either. The sky was clear, so if the plane were already airborne surely they would be able to see it. ‘Please, God, don’t let anything happen to him.’

‘The entrance is there, on the left!’ Dan shouted.

They turned a hard fast left through the entrance and Lizzy stepped on the pedal, powering towards the car park.

And then they saw the plane emerge from behind the small out-building, taxiing down the runway. It was moving away from them, and it was impossible to see who was on board.

‘We’re too late!’ Emma cried. ‘Quick, stop the car, stop the car!’

Lizzy pulled up sharply and Emma threw open the door, sprinting across the gravel and grass towards the wire mesh fence that separated them from the airstrip. ‘Stop! Stop!’ She clung to the fence as if for support.

Dan and Lizzy came up beside her. They all watched as the plane moved even further away, gaining speed down the runway. Then it took to the air, banking right as it rose into the clear blue sky.

Emma broke down in tears.

They were too late.

18

They watched, stunned, as the plane continued to climb. Emma felt sick. Was she really going to watch Will plummet to his death?

Maybe there was still a chance. She wiped away the tears and looked over at the building. ‘There must be someone in there. Maybe they can contact the pilot.’

‘You’re right,’ Dan said, already moving. ‘They must have some form of ground control.’

The three of them raced into the building. The first person they saw was Will.

He was sitting on a bench, with his head hung low.

‘Will!’ Emma shouted. ‘You’re okay!’

Will was shocked by their sudden appearance. ‘Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be?’

Emma embraced him. ‘You didn’t go up in the plane!’

‘I was about to. But at the last moment she said I couldn’t do it.’ He looked totally destroyed. ‘We were almost ready to get on the plane, but she told me she wanted to do it on her own. I don’t know why. Maybe it was what I said. Maybe I scared her off.’ He looked at Emma. ‘Maybe she’s trying to tell me it’s over.’

‘She decided not to go through with it,’ Emma said. ‘She decided to let you live.’

‘What? What’s this all about? Why are you all here?’

‘We came to save you,’ Lizzy said.

‘Save me?’

‘We’ll explain later,’ Dan said urgently. ‘Is there somebody here in charge of ground control? There’s still time to stop this.’

‘Of course,’ Emma said, remembering that this wasn’t over yet. ‘We’ve got to stop her from jumping.’

Despite his confusion, Will ran with it. ‘There are two guys in the next room. They’ve got radio contact with the plane. Amy told me, they need to be in touch in case of any problems.’

They all headed through the door, not bothering to knock. Two older men were sitting at a communication desk, drinking tea, listening to the radio. They nearly spilt their drinks as the four of them burst in. ‘Hey, what do you think you’re…?’

‘Call the plane back down,’ Dan shouted. ‘Now.’

‘She’s planning to kill herself,’ Emma explained. ‘She’s not going to open her parachute.’

‘It’s okay,’ Lizzy said to Will, who looked horrified. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

The men didn’t touch the radio. They simply sat and stared.

‘Please,’ Emma pleaded. ‘Please, just call the plane down.’

The men exchanged glances. ‘Do it, Bob,’ one of them said. ‘Call them back.’

They put out the call over the radio for the plane to return to base immediately. There was no explanation given, and none asked for. A few minutes later, the plane touched down on the runway.

They were waiting for Amy as she re-entered the changing area. ‘What was all that abou…?’

Her face fell when she saw the welcoming party. She focussed her attention on Will. ‘You know, don’t you?’

Will nodded. ‘What changed your mind?’

She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, and seemed to sway slightly. ‘You did, Will. What you said, about me changing your life. And about how amazing I was. I couldn’t do it.’

They both had tears in their eyes. Will moved towards her, but she backed off, as if she was scared to be touched.

Will shook his head in disbelief. ‘It was all an act?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You never really felt anything for me. You were just using me, fattening me up like an animal before slaughter.’

‘This was all to punish me, wasn’t it?’ Emma said. ‘You blame me for Stuart’s death, just like Charlotte does, and you wanted to punish me. You arranged for Scott Goulding to act the part of Stephen Myers, to scare me. How did you know him? Was it through Guy Roberts?’

‘No,’ Amy replied. ‘Stuart knew him. I knew he’d do it, because he’s so desperate for work.’

‘So you contacted him, pretending to be from a production company, and asked him to follow me.’

‘Yes.’

‘But why target Will too?’

‘Because I wanted to take something precious away from you, like you took it away from me!’ She broke down in tears, sliding against the wall, hiding her head in her hands.

The group looked on in silence.

‘I’m really sorry for what’s happened to you,’ Emma said. ‘I really am.’

‘Today was our wedding day,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry.’

‘I know…I know.’ Emma moved forward and placed an arm around her.

The police arrived at the airfield twenty minutes later. They spoke briefly to the group, getting the basic facts of what happened, and then told them they could go. Amy, who had now calmed down, was taken in for questioning.

Back at Emma and Dan’s apartment, the four friends found someone waiting at the front door. It was Edward Holden.

‘Dad, you’re back!’

‘I’ve been so stupid, Emma. And I’m so sorry, I really am. Did you mean what you said about still wanting me to give you away?’

‘Of course!’ Emma embraced him. ‘I couldn’t get married without you.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, resting his head against her hair, ‘you don’t know how happy that makes me feel.’ He pulled back. ‘I’ve got some other good news. My solicitor just called, and they’ve dropped the prosecution.’

‘That’s amazing! But why?’

‘I don’t know exactly. He said something about the police not following due process with the investigation. I have to go and see him tomorrow and he’ll explain it all then.’

‘That’s great, Dad.’ Will placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all over then.’

Emma nodded. ‘It’s the end of it all.’

‘Well, not quite,’ Dan said. ‘There’s definitely one piece of unfinished business. Em, I never did get a chance in Cornwall to tell you about my surprise...’

19

Three weeks later, Emma Holden – now Emma Carlton – stood on the stage of the Minack Theatre in her stunning white wedding dress. The weather had been extremely kind for October; the Indian summer was holding, and it was sunny and mild, with just a gentle breeze coming off the water. As the photographer, a local man with a fantastic reputation, clicked away, Emma felt like a million dollars.

She couldn’t stop smiling.

‘Could you just turn a little to your left, and hold the bouquet slightly higher?’ Emma raised the bouquet of fresh pink roses. ‘That’s it, great.’

It had been a perfect day. First the wedding service at a beautiful village chapel just five miles down the coast, and then straight to the Minack for the photo shoot. It was rare for the venue to allow wedding photographs to be taken, and normally it was reserved for locals, so Emma felt especially privileged to have the opportunity. Dan had persuaded the owners – Emma’s background in theatre had helped.

Dan had sorted out everything. Not just the chapel and the theatre photo shoot, but also accommodation for the guests and the reception in a hotel overlooking the bay at St. Ives.

While the photographer reviewed the latest shots on his digital camera, Emma took the opportunity to look up towards the top of the amphitheatre, where the guests were mingling, drinks in hand. She saw Dan talking with Richard and Will, and Lizzy chatting with Miranda and her father. Lizzy spotted her looking and waved.

‘I think we’ll have some of you and your closest friends now,’ the photographer said. ‘If you’d like to call them down that would be great.’

Emma caught Lizzy’s eye again and beckoned her down. ‘Tell Dan and Will to come too,’ she shouted.

The four of them laughed and joked as the photographer readied himself.

‘I understand now what you mean about this place,’ Lizzy said. ‘It would be so amazing to perform here.’

‘Maybe we should both do it,’ Emma replied. ‘After we’ve got tired of the London theatre scene.’

One week ago Emma had landed herself a wonderful agent and a fantastic job, playing the lead role in a new stage play. It felt right to move away from TV and film, and she was really excited to start this new chapter in her life.

‘I’m so pleased for you, Em. You’ve had such a difficult time, it’s great that everything’s now going so well.’

‘Hey, concentrate you two,’ Dan jested, ‘this poor guy is trying to get your attention!’

They faced forward and posed for the camera as the photographer fired off another round of shots.

‘So, Mrs Carlton, is this a good surprise, or what?’ Dan said, kissing Emma on the cheek and looping an arm around her waist.

‘It’s an amazing surprise, Mr Carlton.’

‘Well, how would you like another surprise?’

‘If it’s as good as this one, then I wouldn’t say no.’

‘Oh, it is,’ he smiled. ‘How about a honeymoon on a tropical paradise island?’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Would I?’

‘Then where?’

‘Mauritius. We fly out in three days’ time, for two weeks. You’ll get back in time to start your new job, and I’ve already cleared it with work.’

‘That’s, well, amazing!’

‘You’ll have to thank your dad, because he’s contributed half the cost. Now his business is back in rude health, he said it was the least he could do.’

‘Wow. I will.’ Emma looked up and saw her father smiling, with his arm around Miranda. She’d not seen him this happy for a long time.

‘Will’s also given us some spending money for his wedding present.’

Emma leant over and kissed Will. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘No, really, thanks. How’s Katie enjoying the day?’

‘Great, it seems to be going great.’ Will had surprised everyone by announcing that he had asked an old school friend to be his plus one. Emma knew that, although they never dated, he had been close to Katie Jones for years, before losing touch when everyone went to university. Just one week ago they had a chance meeting at Euston railway station, and had got on as well as ever. Will, with his newfound confidence, had invited Katie to Cornwall for the celebrations, and she had accepted.

‘That’s fantastic, Will,’ said Emma. ‘You really deserve to be happy.’

‘I just hope Amy – I mean, Sally – is okay,’ he said. ‘And I hope one day she meets the right person.’

‘It sounds like she’s getting the right support now, from what the police said.’

‘Yes, that’s good.’

‘Right, that’s it,’ the photographer said. ‘I’ve got all I need from here. You’re free to return to your guests.’

Emma, Dan, Lizzy and Will made their way back up to the waiting crowd and collected glasses of champagne from one of the servers.

Emma raised her glass and smiled as family and friends looked on. ‘Here’s to the beginning of a brighter future!’

###

THE END

###

Find out more about Paul’s writing, including his full length suspense mystery, Someone to Save You, out now.

Fifteen years ago Sam Becker’s younger sister Cathy was brutally murdered by his best friend – ripping his world apart with a legacy of guilt and recriminations. Now a respected heart surgeon, and happily married, Sam has finally managed to move on. But when he saves a family during a terrifying suicide attempt, the nightmare begins. The young girl who raised the alarm disappears, and Sam falls under suspicion. As increasingly sinister events threaten his life and work, Sam must face the horrors of his sister’s death to uncover the darkest of secrets in a desperate race to save those he loves.

Read the first chapter...

1

The teenage girl came from nowhere, running straight out into the middle of the country road from behind a line of trees.

Sam Becker slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel hard right, feeling the seat belt lock as he was thrown forward at speed. The car jerked before losing control, spinning on its axis while throwing up an ear-piercing screech. Everything was a blur until suddenly the spinning came to a violent stop, sending Sam’s head flying back into the headrest.

Shaking off his dizziness, he twisted anxiously left then right, looking for the girl, but he couldn’t see her. ‘Please, no.’

He staggered out of the car and was about to look underneath the vehicle when he spotted her standing across the road, several metres down a dirt track that ran off to the left.

‘Please, help us!’ she shouted, crying. ‘Please!’

He moved towards her as she ran in the opposite direction, heading further back down the lane. ‘Wait,’ Sam shouted after her. ‘Are you okay?’

He followed her around the corner and found her standing by a smashed down fence. ‘Down there, you’ve got to help us,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, help us, quick.’

As Sam moved closer he could see down the embankment at the railway line below.

‘Oh my God.’

The car was astride the railway line and someone was sitting motionless in the driver’s seat.

‘Please, help us!’ the girl repeated, standing there at the edge, sobbing.

Sam nodded, trying to take in the situation. His eyes traced the journey of the car, from the point where they stood, through the smashed wooden fence, and down the steep grassy embankment onto the track. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Alison.’

‘My name’s Sam.’ He placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder while trying to think. His body was on overdrive. As a cardiothoracic surgeon he was used to dealing with emergency situations, but nothing like this. He looked left, then right down the line. No trains. But he would have to be quick. ‘Is that your mum down there?’

Alison nodded, sniffling. ‘She said she wants to die. I didn’t know she was going to drive on there. Please, help.’

‘It’s going to be okay,’ he promised, hurriedly picking his way through the broken fence. Alison began to follow but he gestured at her to stop. ‘You’ll be safer staying here.’

‘Jessica’s in the back,’ she sobbed.

‘Right,’ he replied, turning back to the car. Now he looked more closely, he could see something in the back seat. ‘Just wait there. Everything will be okay, I promise.’

Alison nodded, but already Sam was scrambling down the bank, his hands brushing against stinging nettles as he tried to keep his balance. He raced onto the track and up to the car. Now he, too, was in the impact zone for any approaching train. He would have to act quickly. He pulled at the door handle.

Locked.

‘Open the door,’ he shouted at the woman inside. She appeared slightly older than him: maybe late thirties. She looked utterly vacant, staring straight ahead at the track, not even acknowledging his presence. He banged on the glass. Without her co-operation, this could end very badly. ‘Open the door, please.’

He peered through the back window. There were two young children in the rear, a boy and a girl about a year old, strapped into booster seats. The child nearest to him met his gaze. They’d both been crying; their reddened faces were tear-stained, but they seemed calm now.

Sam looked back at the woman. Then he noticed the handcuffs attached to the steering wheel. What the hell? This hadn’t been a spur of the moment suicide attempt; this was well planned. It would make things so much harder. ‘Christ.’

He looked down the track, which turned off at an angle a few hundred metres ahead. This was no longer just a matter of coaxing her out of the car. Blood was pulsing in his head as his heart raced. He thrust his hand into his pocket for his mobile, but it wasn’t there. It was in his jacket, on the front seat of his car.

‘So stupid,’ he said, chastising himself for not picking it up at the time. There was no time to go back.

He tried to push the car, straining until his body felt like it was about to explode with the effort. But the handbrake was on, and his feet slid on the stones between the tracks, denying him any grip. The vehicle just rocked back and forwards. Sam turned back to the woman. ‘I know how you must be feeling,’ he pleaded, ‘but you don’t want to kill your children, do you?’

She never flinched.

‘Look,’ Sam shouted, throwing another nervous glance down the track. ‘Any minute a train could come, and we’ll all be dead. Your daughter up there,’ he said, pointing to Alison, ‘you don’t want her to see this, do you? What will she do without you, without her brothers and sisters?’

Nothing.

Sam looked at the two children, then at the window. There was no other way.

He searched between the rails and found a sharp-edged stone, about the size of a tennis ball. ‘Close your eyes,’ he ordered, already hammering on the bottom right-hand corner of the passenger front window. He increased the force, until cracks appeared. After four more hits the window shattered but, being safety glass, held itself in place. The children in the back seat began crying, shocked and scared by the drama. ‘Close your eyes,’ Sam shouted again, as he elbowed away the glass as gently as he could. Cubes of glass flew onto the front seat, some hitting the woman, who remained wide-eyed and motionless. Finally, the way was clear for Sam to reach the inside door handle. Undoing the lock, he ripped open the passenger door and grabbed for the handbrake. Once more, he tried to push the car, straining with the effort. ‘For God’s sake, please move.’ This time the car did move forward a little, but the wheels were jammed in between the tracks, and there was no way it could be pushed any further.

Another glance down the line – still no train.

He needed to try something different. Stay calm, stay focussed. He reached back in the car and thrust the spare passenger seat forward, giving him access to the children.

‘Come on,’ he said, undoing the children’s seat belts with shaking hands. He grabbed at the little boy. ‘Come with me.’ He pulled him close to his chest and placed him carefully on the grass bank, just a couple of metres away. Rushing back to the car, he brought out the little girl. Then, as carefully as possible, he scooped up the two children, one under each arm. They were heavier than he expected, weighing him down as he fought his way up the embankment. The steep incline was hard going, but this was the safest place. He passed the children to Alison, peeling them away from him as they clung onto his shirt. ‘Look after your brother and sister.’

And that’s when he heard the ominous hiss, reverberating across the overhead power lines.

A train was approaching.

‘My mum, please help my mum!’ Alison screamed.

He slid back down towards the car, burning his hands against the dry scrubland, momentum slamming him into the car’s side. Still no train. But the hiss was getting louder.

His chest felt volcanic and he struggled to catch his breath. The woman was still silent, still staring dead ahead. ‘The keys to the handcuffs,’ he gasped. ‘Where are the keys?’

No answer.

‘The keys!’ he shouted. ‘Tell me where they are.’

He thrust his hands into her coat pockets and then the rest of her clothing, desperately searching every possible place where the keys might be. There was no reaction from her, even when he forced his hands into her tight jeans pockets. The keys were nowhere.

What was he going to do now? Maybe he should have told Alison to retrieve his mobile phone. He looked up at her, watching from the top with the children in her arms.

And then the train appeared around the top of the bend, travelling fast. A horn blared and the emergency brakes screeched. ‘Please, God, no,’ Sam cried, stepping back from the car as the train sped towards them. ‘Look away!’ he shouted to Alison, through the deafening scream of the brakes. ‘Don’t look!’ The horn blared again, but the train didn’t seem to slow. Sam tried to push the car again, in one last desperate effort.

It was still held fast.

‘Please, help Jessica!’ Alison screamed hysterically from the top of the embankment. ‘She’s in the back! Jessica’s in the back!’

Sam looked up at her, then back towards the car. What did she mean? Then a sickening realisation hit him.

The boot.

He thrust his head in the car, scrambling to find the boot release lever. As with his vehicle, it was on the far side, near the accelerator pedal. He threw himself across the still motionless woman and strained to reach the lever, pulling it upwards, knowing that any second the train would hit. Hauling himself out of the car he rushed to the back. The train was bearing down on them, brakes still screeching, no more than a hundred metres away. He had only seconds before impact. He threw open the boot. A newborn baby, wrapped in a pure white shawl, looked up at him with watery blue eyes. He grabbed it as a thunderous noise enveloped him, instinctively sprinting off to his left and diving for cover, shielding the baby from the impact as he hit the ground.

And then everything went black.

###

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Praise for Someone to Save You:

"Seriously, my co-workers were laughing at me as I came back from a break this morning because I was still staring at my phone (with Kindle app) as I walked down the hall back to my desk. I just could not stop reading. Very suspenseful, so much so, that I'm sorry I've finished it." (five stars, Amazon.com)

"An excellent read which I thoroughly enjoyed and would recommend to all lovers of thrillers." (four stars, Amazon.co.uk)

"...fast-paced and intricately plotted...the lead character Sam Becker is a likable, convincing protagonist." (five stars, Amazon.co.uk)

"what a read!!! loved it from start to finish, enough suspense and twists to make me a very happy reader." (five stars, Amazon.co.uk)

"This book kicks off with high drama & engaged me from the start. It went at a decent pace and I felt excited by the idea of it, which is a great feeling to get at the start of a book." (four stars, Amazon.co.uk)

"I knocked through this one pretty quickly and enjoyed it all the way." (four stars, Amazon.co.uk)

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