The House Sitter, page 17
In my pocket, I felt my phone vibrate. Carefully removing it, Nico’s name flashed up on the screen. Putting it down, I let it ring, thinking quickly. If Nico had known I was in England, he would have been expecting an English ringtone rather than a Spanish one. But if he’d known, surely he wouldn’t have come here?
It was another scenario I hadn’t thought through. If he ever questioned me, I could easily explain that I had two phones. Upset by Natalie’s illness, I’d simply forgotten to take this one with me.
Half an hour passed, as on the floor, I didn’t move. At last I heard Nico start his moped, revving the engine, before driving away. Still on the floor, I contemplated how to get out of this. I couldn’t risk using my mobile to contact Andre, either. If he and Nico spoke, the cat would be out of the bag.
Still anxious about being caught out, I crawled to my bedroom and found my laptop. Deciding to use Facebook, I was about to send Nico a message about where I allegedly was and the reason for it, when I stopped myself. It might seem less suspicious if I left it a few hours.
That evening, my fears were allayed when Nico responded sympathetically. I breathed a sigh of relief. But even for me, this had gone a step too far beyond the jeopardy I thrived on and I was starting to feel the pressure mounting.
The only saving grace to my self-enforced confinement was Giuseppe’s cinema room. Below ground, I could at least binge-watch TV until my mythical return from the UK, or so I thought. That night, in the darkness of the villa, I went to the fridge to get myself another beer. As I opened the door and the light inside it came on, there was a loud rap on the window.
‘Margot? Are you going to let me in or am I going to have to smash this window?’
I was pretty sure the glass was toughened, but I knew when the game was up. Going to the door, I unbolted it.
As he stepped inside, Nico looked furious. ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I countered.
We stared at each other. ‘So many lies, Margot. You invent a friend with cancer. It is not good.’ Nico smoothed his hair off his face. ‘And you forget one small thing. I’ve known too many people like you. I know what you are doing.’
‘It isn’t what you think. It’s complicated.’ Turning, I walked back to the kitchen, thinking on my feet. ‘If I tell you …’
‘I think you must tell me.’ Helping himself to a beer from the fridge, he leaned against the worktop.
‘Come downstairs. I was about to watch a movie,’ I said lightly.
‘I do not come here to watch a fucking movie.’ He didn’t budge. ‘Or are you frightened of being seen by someone else?’
I paused, but only for a split second. ‘Fine,’ I shrugged. ‘Stay there if you like. I’m going downstairs.’
My heart was starting to race. I knew I was pushing him. But if he turned up uninvited, what did he expect? There was silence behind me, before I heard him follow. Going down into the cinema room, I arranged myself on one of the sofas.
Coming in, he sat down and for a moment, he didn’t speak. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with distrust. ‘I am not sure I know you, Margot. I thought I did, but not now.’
I formed a look of embarrassment on my face. ‘I’m sorry. I know how bad this looks. But I have an explanation, Nico. It’s just.’ I lowered my gaze, just a fraction. ‘It’s not something I wanted anyone to know about.’
‘Then you tell me. I stay here until you do.’ Nico sounded uncompromising.
Thinking quickly, I sighed. ‘OK. But it’s actually fucking embarrassing. I was set to inherit some money from my grandfather. A whole lot of money as it happens. I received the first instalment just before I came out here. I was due the next a couple of weeks ago. But …’ I paused. ‘This is the embarrassing part. Someone came forward. They said my grandfather owed him hundreds of thousands from a business deal they did years ago. He says he has the paperwork. My solicitor seems to think his claim won’t stand up. But in the meantime, the estate has been frozen.’ I’m aware of Nico’s eyes fixed on me. ‘It doesn’t affect my day-to-day life, but there’s no way I can afford to charter Andre’s boat.’ I rested my head in my hands. ‘I know I should have been honest with him. But I didn’t want anyone to know that my grandfather hadn’t paid his debts.’ I shrugged miserably, watching him closely to see if he fell for the act. ‘It was wrong, but it was easier to lie.’
Nico looked slightly less angry. ‘You are right. It is wrong. It is also wrong to spend money before you have it.’
‘I know.’ I gritted my teeth. ‘I honestly believed that coming here was the start of wonderful new chapter of my life.’ If I was going to be honest with him, I may as well tell him about the house, too. ‘This house … I’m not renting it, Nico. I found an advertisement for a house sitter and when I applied, I was offered it. It’s all perfectly above board. There’s an agreement and everything. The only thing was …’ I frowned slightly. ‘I thought the housekeeper would still be here. But it was really strange. When I arrived, she wasn’t.’
‘If there is any chance of us staying friends, I want you to tell Andre the truth,’ Nico said quietly.
I looked at him, horrified. ‘I can’t.’
‘If you don’t, I will.’ Nico shrugged. ‘He is a good man. He was prepared to let you charter his boat on trust. He does not deserve your lies.’ Nico paused. ‘You may not know this, but the boat does not belong to him, Margot. He looks after it for someone else. Andre works on commission. Your lies have cost him thousands.’
I was taken aback. But it wasn’t my fault. ‘Well, perhaps he should have been more honest, too.’ Taking in the look on Nico’s face, I decided I needed to be more repentant. ‘OK. That was unfair of me. I suppose I assumed.’
‘Yes.’ Nico’s eyes are grave. ‘You should not assume.’
Getting up, I stood there awkwardly. ‘Would you like another beer? Or some food?’
‘A beer,’ he said briefly.
Going out to the kitchen, I was thinking on my feet. No way was I telling Andre. But how else was I going to get out of this?
Taking the beers back, I passed one to Nico, looking at mine before swapping them over. ‘Mine’s the zero.’
Sitting down, I was silent for a moment. ‘Have you ever been down on your luck?’ I said at last. ‘I mean really down, without a job, with no money to pay your rent, with no family to turn to, without any hope that anything will change for the better.’
He spoke coldly. ‘I have been without work more than once. But I have always been honest.’
I wished he’d stop banging on about honesty. ‘So have I,’ I said hastily. ‘Until now. I’m desperate, Nico. Since coming here, it’s felt like the beginning of a whole new life. The people I’ve met, this island …’ I paused, watching him drink his beer. ‘Nico, I really don’t know if I can tell Andre.’
He looked at me. ‘You don’t have a choice.’
‘You’re wrong.’ I watched him drink more of his beer. ‘My friend, you should know by now. There is always a choice.’
*
There were just two rules to living the way I did. Say whatever it takes to get you whatever you need, and when the going gets too hot, get the fuck out. The problem was I was far from ready to leave here.
But events had forced my hand. As the ferry chugged out of the port, I felt a genuine pang of sadness as the lights of Ibiza Town faded behind me, wondering if I’d ever come back. Sitting in the darkness, I tried to work out a plan, but all I could picture was Nico, shaking his head, making no attempt to hide his disgust with me.
‘I was right about you. You didn’t come looking for people. It was all about money.’
He was referring to the day he’d been upset; the day I’d been late meeting him because I’d lost track of time at some fancy lunch with Andre. But the villa parties had paid off in more than one way. As the Rohypnol I’d spiked Nico’s beer with took effect, he was starting to slur his words.
‘In vino veritas, Nico?’ Dropping the act, I was done with this. ‘I’m not telling Andre a single fucking thing. You shouldn’t have come here. If you could have kept out of this, everything could have just stayed the way it was. But now …’ There was regret in my voice.
Trying and failing to speak, it wasn’t long before Nico was unconscious. Gazing at him, I had two choices as I thought about administering the lethal dose of heroin I’d lifted from one of the villa parties. But I’d stopped myself. Nico was an innocent in this. He didn’t need to die. Minutes later, I fetched the trolley I knew was outside, used to transport firewood in for the oversized fireplaces. Rolling his inert body onto it, I pulled the trolley into the lift up to the ground floor.
It made it so much easier when a villa was kitted out like this one. I didn’t have to use strength. Outside, I switched on the electric motor and steered the trolley outside. Briefly I considered dumping him on the roadside, but I couldn’t take the risk that someone would see me. Heading past the pool towards the garden, reaching a shaded corner, I put the brakes on, before rolling Nico onto the ground.
But after what I’d done, I knew I couldn’t stay. After putting the trolley away, I’d cleaned up the house and packed, taking one or two souvenirs in payment for my trouble, pausing only to send Giuseppe an apologetic email. This time it was my mother who’d been taken ill. After locking the house and leaving the key hidden, I’d gone out to the taxi I knew was on its way. Not an official one – I wasn’t taking any chances. There were plenty of taxis that did rides for bargain prices, no questions asked.
As the taxi headed for the port, I thought fleetingly of Andre. I’d be sorry not to see him again, but what I was most sorry about was leaving this glitzy life I’d created here. With the police already sniffing around Gabby’s death, I was sure it wouldn’t be long before Nico told them what he remembered of tonight. So I bought a ticket on the first available ferry, which happened to be going to Valencia.
With a whole night to think about what came next, I watched the lights of Ibiza fade into the darkness as I considered mainland Spain, Italy, or maybe France again. With any number of places to check out, one thing I did know was that Margot Jameson’s moment had been cut short. I just bitterly regretted it couldn’t have lasted longer.
18
Katharine
After Joe goes to bed, like most nights, I lie awake, unable to sleep. Stretched out on the sofa, I take in how quiet the house is, the image of Ana Fontaine filling my head. I wonder if the police have spoken to her yet. Then I think of the job Oliver had allegedly applied for and the implications of that, the restlessness I feel gnawing under my skin, before it subsides to numbness, almost as though someone’s flicked an emotional off-switch. I read somewhere once that nothingness is the root of insanity. But as I lie here, I know what’s worse. When trust has been hard won, betrayal cuts deeper; is magnified a hundredfold.
But I’ve learned the hard way never to count on anyone, and I find myself winding the clock back to my childhood, to somewhere that should have been carefree and happy. Except even back then, nowhere was. I’ve talked to Jude about my mother’s illness, how it hung over my life until she died when I was a teenager, how my grieving father took his own life. As the numbness starts to wear off, a wave of grief, unhappiness, desolation, washes over me. Feeling the walls close in, it takes superhuman effort to do what I’ve taught myself to do. Deep breaths, Kat. Start counting, keep going, through the tens, twenties, hundreds and thousands, for as long as it takes for this to pass.
Eventually I must have drifted off, because the next morning, I’m still lying on the sofa when I’m awoken by a knock on the door. Suddenly realising what the time is, I get up, pausing in the hallway to glance in the mirror. My pale skin exaggerates the dark circles under my eyes, my hair unkempt. I make an attempt to smooth it, before going to answer the door.
‘Good morning, Mrs McKenna.’ DS Stanley is there with the same colleague as before. She’s everything I don’t feel – bright, her makeup perfect, her hair newly washed and neatly pinned back. ‘I hope this isn’t too early. I was hoping you might have a moment.’
‘Of course,’ I say wearily, knowing I don’t really have a choice. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I didn’t sleep at all well last night. Come through to the kitchen.’
They follow me into the kitchen, where getting a glass of water, I gesture towards the table. ‘Please, do sit down. Can I offer you a cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you.’
Watching as DS Stanley gets out her electronic notebook, I pull out one of the chairs opposite them.
‘There were one or two things we wanted to ask you about.’ She frowns slightly. ‘Your father-in-law has already contacted us regarding the job your husband had applied for. I understand you didn’t know about it?’
‘I knew nothing about it.’
‘Can you think of any reason why your husband hadn’t told you? Had he referred to it in any way, even in a way you might have missed at the time?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Not once.’
‘The second …’ She pauses. ‘It’s a little awkward. It’s regarding your relationship with your husband. I know you told us that everything was fine between you. It’s just we have new information that suggests that wasn’t the case.’
‘Excuse me?’ As I gaze at her, a feeling of uncertainty comes over me. ‘Who told you that?’
DS Stanley opens her electronic notebook. ‘We’ve been to see Ana Fontaine. She told us quite a few things, actually. According to her, your husband was about to leave you.’
Shocked, my mind starts to race. ‘That’s insane.’
‘Apparently you and your husband argued constantly. That’s what he’d told her.’
I shake my head. ‘Why would she say that? Did you believe her?’
‘I’m simply stating her side of events. She didn’t know about the money he’d left her, or so she says.’
I stare at her. ‘Have you considered that she might be lying?’
‘It’s possible.’ DS Stanley goes on. ‘But your husband also gave Ms Fontaine quite a detailed account of your behaviour. He described it as paranoid. He never knew what he was coming home to. He also told her you’d attacked him verbally and physically. Does this sound at all familiar to you?’
A feeling of helplessness builds inside me. Knowing how bad she’s making me look, how can she say these things? ‘I’ve no idea where she’s got that from. I’ve told you what our marriage was like. It’s obvious she’s determined to cause trouble. Don’t you wonder why?’
It isn’t right that the police should believe her, when it’s me they need to believe. But without Oliver here to corroborate her story, it’s her word against mine. I shake my head. ‘I’ve no idea why he would have said those things to her, or even if he actually did say them. But whether he did or not, it sounds like my husband was going through some kind of crisis. It probably explains why he hid things from me.’
‘You seem very calm, Mrs McKenna.’
I look from one of them to the other. ‘What am I supposed to say? I don’t know what Ana Fontaine’s agenda is, but what she’s told you isn’t true. She’s definitely up to something. I can assure you I am neither paranoid nor unstable. I suppose he might have told her that in order to gain her sympathy. I’m a therapist, as you know. I have an understanding of these things.’ But even I can hear the uncertainty in my voice.
Sitting there, I look at her. What can I say if DS Stanley has already decided that for whatever reason, this Ana Fontaine is more plausible than I am? But her next question shocks me.
‘According to Ms Fontaine, your husband was concerned about your spending habits. He told her that he was intentionally keeping money where you couldn’t access it. Were you aware of this?’
Disbelief fills me. ‘We had one or two disagreements about the cost of items for the house. We’ve been doing it up,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Oliver liked nice things. They don’t come cheap.’
The two police officers glance at each other. ‘Your husband also told Ms Fontaine that his brother was in love with you. Was the feeling mutual?’
‘What?’ I gaze at her incredulously. ‘That really is pure fiction. Joe and I are friends – good friends – but that’s all we are. We’ve always got on well, but there is nothing more between us. Just for the record, whatever my husband may have been up to, I was never unfaithful to him.’
She makes a note in her electronic notebook. ‘Were you aware your husband had started attending AA meetings?’
Another shockwave hits me, another wave of denial. ‘Oliver did not have a drink problem.’
‘Mrs McKenna, he lost his job because he’d been drinking. Surely that’s indicative of a problem at some level?’
Puzzled, I frown. ‘But if he was diabetic and hadn’t been diagnosed, isn’t it possible he might have misinterpreted his symptoms?’
‘If he was going to AA meetings, he clearly thought he had a problem.’ DS Stanley studies me. ‘It’s a pity we can’t check with the local group, but of course, they don’t keep records. You never suspected anything?’
Before I can answer, a creak comes from upstairs.
DS Stanley looks up. ‘Do you have someone here?’
I shake my head. ‘Probably just the cat,’ I say slightly more loudly than usual after her earlier comment, glad that Joe’s car is parked outside on the road and not in the drive. ‘I imagine you need this.’ Trying to pre-empt more questions, I slide Oliver’s laptop across the table towards her.
Mercifully Joe waits until they’ve gone before coming downstairs.
‘They’ve spoken to Ana Fontaine.’ As my eyes fix on his, I’m numb again. ‘Get this. She told the police that Oliver and I argued all the time. Apparently he’d told Ana that I was paranoid, and that I’d attacked him. It’s nonsense, Joe. She’s made it all up.’ My voice is tight. ‘Now the police think I’m aggressive, and I’m not.’ Breaking off, I’m tearful as I look at Joe. ‘According to her, Oliver had told her he was going to leave me. You read about women like her, don’t you? Conning people out of their money. For all we know, she orchestrated this whole thing. She must have known exactly what she was doing.’
