The Fear: The sensational new thriller from the Sunday Times bestseller that you need to read in 2018
male voice makes Wendy twitch. She’d been so focussed on Lou – on the muddy green hue of her irises, the enlarged pores on either side of her nose, the visible tendons in her neck and the sharp collarbones beneath them – that she’d quite forgotten they weren’t alone in the room.
‘I’d love another cup of tea please.’ She smiles tightly as she pushes her saucer in his direction.
Lou moves to get up from her seat. ‘I’ll get one for you.’
‘No, no.’ Wendy flashes her eyebrows at Gary. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, would you Gary? I’ve got a few questions for Lou. If that’s okay?’
‘That’s fine. No problem at all.’
Wendy registers a fleeting glance between Lou and her colleague as he leaves the room, but the second the door closes behind him, Lou is all smiles again. Wendy reaches down beside her and pulls her handbag onto her lap. I could have a knife in here, she thinks as she unclips the fastener and reaches in for her Laura Ashley glasses case, and no one would ever know. I could plunge it into her chest and make it back out onto the street, before anyone realised anything was wrong.
Gosh, she thinks as the case opens with a satisfying pop and she takes out her glasses. That was a bit of a dark thought. I don’t know where that came from. I’m just here to find out a little bit more about Lou Wandsworth. That’s not a crime, is it? I could have introduced myself to her in the café instead but social situations are so awkward. She could have excused herself and walked away. Office protocol means she’s got no choice but to sit here and talk to me. Whether she likes it or not.
‘So,’ she says as she hooks her glasses over her ears and pushes them up the bridge of her nose. ‘Tell me a bit about you, Lou.’
The other woman shuffles awkwardly in her chair. ‘Well, um, as I said, I’ve got seven years’ experience—’
‘No, no. Not all that corporate stuff. You as a person. If we’re going to be working together for a while it makes sense to get to know each other a little better. Doesn’t it?’
‘Oh, um. Sure. What … er … what sort of thing do you want to know?’
‘Anything you want to tell me!’
Wendy’s chest tightens as the younger woman glances towards the door. She’s overdoing it. Her convivial tone sounds forced and she’s making Lou feel ill at ease.
‘Me for example,’ she says quickly as she picks up her pen, ‘I’m fifty-nine, no children, live alone with my little dog Monty. I’m a big fan of gardening, crosswords and crime dramas.’ She laughs lightly but the pen in her hands is strained to breaking point. If the other woman notices, she doesn’t let on. ‘How about you?’
Lou shrugs. ‘There’s not much to tell you really. I’m thirty-two and er … I live just outside Malvern.’
‘Oh yes. Whereabouts?’
‘Near Bromyard.’
‘Oh, out in the sticks.’
‘Yes. It is a bit.’
‘And do you live there with your husband?’ Wendy’s gaze flicks towards the naked ring finger of Lou’s left hand.
‘I live alone.’
‘That’s something we have in common then.’
And it’s not the only thing.
‘Woah!’ Lou jerks back in her seat and raises her hands to her face as something flies across the desk towards her. ‘Your … your pen.’
‘My what?’ Wendy is genuinely surprised to look down and see two halves of a biro in her hands. She’s snapped it clean in two.
‘Tea!’ Gary walks backwards into the room, carrying a tea tray in his hands. ‘What did I miss?’ He looks at Lou as she stands up. ‘Bloody hell. What happened to you?’
‘It’s ink.’ She pulls the white shirt away from her body, but the sticky red ink isn’t only on the crisp white cotton. Her cheeks, her forehead and her throat are splattered too. ‘Wendy’s pen broke. I’d better go and clean myself up.’
‘I really am very sorry,’ Wendy says as Lou slips from the room. ‘I don’t know what happened.’
‘It’s fine,’ Gary says as he places a fresh cup of tea in front of her. ‘Accidents happen.’
Wendy picks up her tea cup and raises it to her mouth.
‘They do, don’t they?’ she says, then she takes a small sip.
When we woke up this morning we had breakfast, but not in the restaurant. We ate sandwiches in bed – Tesco sandwiches that Mike bought before he picked me up yesterday – and washed them down with warm Fanta. Afterwards, Mike told me to shower and pack up my things because we were off to Rouen. I was a bit disappointed that we weren’t going to Paris (if you have to go to France you should at least see the Eiffel Tower), but I tried not to let it show on my face. I don’t care where we go, as long as I’m with Mike.
Not that I’ve seen much of Rouen, just a few old buildings and a glimpse of the river on the way to the hotel. We had sex again, pretty much as soon as we walked into our door. This time we did it face to face and Mike didn’t roar when he came. He did cry though, after he rolled off me, which I thought was a bit weird. When I asked him what was wrong he said that he’d never loved anyone as much as he loved me and that it would break him if I ever left him. I wiped the tears from his cheeks, covered his face with kisses and told him that would never happen. He was the love of my life and we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. He looked at me then for a really long time without saying anything, then he rolled away from me and got out of bed. When he started pulling on his clothes, I moved to get out of bed too but he told me to stay where I was. He had a surprise planned and he’d be back soon. I begged him to tell me what it was but he refused, laughing and saying it wouldn’t be a surprise if he told me. When he left the room, I heard the key turn in the lock.
That was six hours ago. The sun is going down, it’s seven o’clock and I’m really pissed off. I thought we’d go sightseeing together or something, walk hand in hand along the river, visit a few shops and see the ruined buildings Mike was talking about on the way here. Some romantic break this has been. It’s Saturday and we’re due to go back to the UK tomorrow and all we’ve done is have sex twice and eat sandwiches. And I’ve been stuck here alone all day. There isn’t even a TV and I didn’t bother bringing a book. All I’ve done is nap, throw balled-up socks into the bin, write my diary in the back of an exercise book and stare at the stupid painting on the wall opposite the bed. I could probably draw it with my eyes shut now. I can’t ever remember being so bored in my life.
I sit up sharply, pulling my knees into my chest as the locked bedroom door rattles and Mike steps into the room. He looks exhausted, and a tiny bit pissed, but he smiles as our eyes meet. ‘Hey, hey. How’s the love of my life then?’
I don’t return his smile. ‘Where’ve you been?’
He takes a step back, as though I’ve just landed a punch in his belly. ‘What?’
‘Where the fuck have you been?’
‘Woah.’ His smile vanishes. ‘You don’t get to speak to me like that.’
‘I do if you leave me locked in here so you can go and get pissed.’