It felt very wrong letting themselves back into Gallant House, forbidden, like kids sneaking home past curfew. Neither of them had ever been inside without Bridget in occupation and the house felt the lack. Jenny could sense it was lonely, with its long untrodden corridors and closed doors, dust settling on untouched bannisters, neglected ledges and tables. In a strange way, Bridget had been its soul, hadn’t she? thought Jenny. She had channelled the dark energy that lurked here, drawing it to herself like the lightning rod on the roof; she’d been the ghost in the machine. If she didn’t return, what would happen to the empty house?
No one had cleared up the flowers on the hall floor. The water had evaporated but the lilacs had browned and drooped. Jonah knelt down and picked them up. Striding past Jenny, he threw them out the front door into the gutter. She kicked the shards of glass against the skirting.
‘Horrible things,’ he muttered.
‘I thought you liked lilacs?’ signed Jenny.
‘Hate them – too highly scented.’
‘But you got me lilacs.’
‘Stole – from your communal garden – because I thought you liked them.’
‘I hate them too,’ admitted Jenny.
Jonah laughed. ‘Christ, what a pair we make. So, what do you want to do now?’
‘I’m going to pack my stuff,’ she signed.
‘Want a hand?’
Jenny thought of the Bobby-bought clothes hanging in her wardrobe. Jonah would no doubt make a few jokes about her call girl career if he saw those. She wasn’t quite ready to treat it so lightly. She’d lost herself for a few months and not yet found a path back, though maybe she was now at least facing the right way? ‘No, thanks. Hadn’t you better pack?’ she signed.
‘I suppose I should. I might look around first though: while the cat’s away, this mouse will play. I’ll leave you to it.’ He wandered off, whistling a snatch of something she thought might be the Danger Mouse theme tune. ‘Watch out for Spooky Moggy!’ he called over his shoulder just before he disappeared into the snug. He was probably going for a smoke, knowing him.
She wanted to summon him back to remind him he’d already sent her a message owning up to Spooky Moggy weeks ago.
He had, hadn’t he? To be honest, those last weeks were a horrible scar on her memory, with only the pain, fear and embarrassment clear, like stitches across a wound.
Jenny tugged on her braid, unravelling the strands that pulled on her injury. She no longer had that phone – the police had taken it into evidence in case anything connected Bridget to the harassment of the flowers and the messages she’d told them about. She could only remember the text had been signed ‘Sad Moggy’. Jonah liked to flog a joke way beyond death so who else could it have been? She’d confront him on the way home, tell him to cut it out. Shrugging it off for now, she went upstairs and into her bedroom. It had the stale smell of a room that had been closed for a while. The curtains were drawn. She pulled them back and tried to open the sash but failed as usual to lift it. The cord must still be broken. The room looked pretty sad in the twilight, bedcovers rumpled and the pillow dented from where she’d last lain down. There were even a few blood spots on the white carpet between the bed and the bathroom.
From the creaking overhead, it sounded like Jonah had gone back upstairs to visit the scene of his amorous encounters. If she had her way, she’d burn that daybed. Jenny started piling scattered clothes on the duvet. Bridget should know better than to use a vulnerable guy like Jonah. He might not like that label, but that’s how his experiences had left him, wide open to more abuse by people who exploited his low self-opinion to use him for sex.
She hadn’t done that as well, had she? She’d certainly looked to him for comfort.
Not liking where her thoughts were going, she connected her new phone to her speakers and let it blast through her ‘Most Played’ tracks. She had been wandering in a desert lately, her love of classical music vanished like a mirage as she tried to approach it. Her spirit felt dry-as-dust too as a result. Could Petrushka return her to the ocean? That Russian ballet was the last concert she remembered playing and enjoying. She’d connected to the piece, lost herself in it in a deep dive. She was scared she couldn’t recapture that. Had she really lost all hope of a career in classical music? What would she do now? Stay in Harlow? She didn’t think she had the gift to teach violin like her mum, so what could she do?
Never mind that now. Concentrate on the task at hand, Jenny, she told herself. Tidy this part of your life away so you don’t have to think about it again.
Taking her suitcase from under the bed, she began folding up her clothes from the wardrobe. There were some lovely pieces here, especially the plum satin evening gown and an embroidered lace over nude sheath. If she sold all the designer clothes, would she get enough to buy back her violin from the dealer on the Portobello Road? He might not yet have found a purchaser. Doubtful that they’d be worth that much second-hand. She wasn’t sure if she actually owned the jewellery. She’d have to ask Bobby and wouldn’t that be awkward? They’d never officially ended their arrangement. He’d been pestering her to go out again with him. He’d even sent her a bottle of champagne, saying they could drink it together at a romantic night at the apartment, just the two of them, underlined. She dug it out of the bottom of the wardrobe. It had a great yellow ribbon with streamers on the neck. He’d guessed rightly that the night after the exhibition had scared her away and she’d need some coaxing back. The bottle might be worth a few quid, though, as it looked a superior vintage. She cut off the label from him with her sewing scissors and threw it in the bin, and put the bottle aside for last minute packing.
But enough of Bobby. She wasn’t going back to that life. A holdall would have to do for her underwear and T-shirts. She dragged this out from the bottom of the cupboard and turned to her dresser. Pulling out the top drawer, she stopped.
Someone had removed the underwear, every single lacy scrap and sensible cotton brief. The police? They were the only ones she knew to have been in here since the attack. But why? It hadn’t been a sex crime that had taken place in this room, just a straightforward assault. She opened the next drawer down in case the police had done a search and simply mixed things up. All her bras, stockings and tights were missing too.
‘Looking for these?’
Spinning round, Jenny found Matt standing by the bathroom door with a black thong dangling from one finger. She hadn’t seen him for months and he looked more neatly groomed than she remembered, hair recently washed, clothes a bright white Tee and new dark jeans; that should make him look nice and normal, that was until she saw that his eyes lit with malice.
‘I see I’ve left you speechless?’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘But then you always are. That’s one of the nicest things about you.’ He took the panties to his nose and sniffed. ‘And your scent. Did I ever tell you how much I like that?’
Jenny closed the drawer slowly. Matt here? But why? His presence made her skin crawl – it always had a little, she realised. ‘How did you get in?’ she signed, fingers trembling. How far away was Jonah?
He looked down at her hands wryly. ‘So predictable.’ He made his voice a falsetto. ‘How, Matt, why, Matt? That’s how I imagine you sound in your head, while to the rest of the world you’re silent. You had such a grating accent when you were thirteen – so ill-fitting to your gift! I did the world a favour breaking you of that, even though it was an accidental outcome. I have to admit you’ve been a good girl staying quiet all these years, much better behaved than recently.’
What was he saying? Jenny shook her head, not knowing what she was denying. Being good? Everything? Even being here with him?
‘Why so shocked, Jenny? You must’ve known. Come on: we’ve been together for months now.’
Did he mean …?
‘We had something special all those years – you and me. I knew when we first met that we had to be each other’s first, both would follow our music step by step, our lives linked. That night was sublime; it’s never quite been as good since. We’ve never gone quite so far in our sharing.’ He plucked the elastic string he held between finger and thumb, making it snap, snap, snap against his palm: pizzicato on thong, so bizarre and so wrong. ‘But you took it so badly, retreated so I couldn’t reach you. I had to wait. But maybe you were right. It was too soon: you just fourteen and me only seventeen. We had to nurture our talent first. I admit that I’d never be half the musician I am now without your example to pull me along, challenging me to keep up. I’m a patient man.’
Even while pretending to pay attention, Jenny looked frantically around for exits, for a way of summoning Jonah. Window – door – all blocked.
‘And so I waited, watching, and timed my move to when you finally saw that you needed me. And we could’ve been the perfect duo – even your friend Louis saw that. He told you but you didn’t listen.’
What did he mean by saying he’d been watching? She’d never noticed Matt until Harry’s party – or was this all his own fantasy? ‘Why are you here? I thought you’d finished with me.’ she signed.
‘You want to know why I’m here?’
He was acting so strange – too calm, almost removed from the situation; except for his angry mauling of her underwear. She had to keep him talking. She nodded as her stomach clenched with sick anticipation.
‘Don’t you realise by now? Christ, I take it all back: you’re so dumb!’ He turned slightly away but before she could move for the door, he was back, finger in her face. ‘I live next door, right under your nose, you stupid bitch. I’ve watched you coming and going for a year now. I’ve never stopped watching you.’
Oh God. He wasn’t just angry or jealous; he was insane. She pointed in the direction of the GP’s house.
‘Yes, I’m living with dear old Norman. He’s got more than a touch of senile dementia; that’s why his partners at the surgery eased him out so quickly last summer. Didn’t you wonder about that? Thanks to a couple of embarrassing misdiagnoses and mutterings about patient complaints, it was “adios and here’s your gold carriage clock, Norman”.’
God, that poor man: he must’ve been so lonely and confused, wide open to the first con artist who happened upon him.
‘It was around the same time I convinced him, easily enough as it turned out, that I was the grandson of an old friend and he invited me to stay with him. He was feeling adrift and needed someone to cheer him up, the pathetic old sod. He felt like he was being useful – and he so loves feeling useful.’
This was all building to some crescendo, wasn’t it? Matt had a plan for being here and had had time to prepare while she’d been in Harlow. Jenny wondered how long she could stall him and keep him talking. Did he know she wasn’t alone? Jonah would come looking for her eventually. ‘Go on,’ she signed.
‘You want to hear the full story, do you?’ He moved to the door and pushed the bolt across. Chills ran down Jenny’s spine and she began to wonder if he ever intended to let her out again. ‘I suppose we have time and you should know, because it’s all your fault for moving in here. Norman would never’ve met me if it weren’t for you.’
Jenny tracked his movements, trying to keep away from him, but he was getting closer as he prowled. She couldn’t afford to get cornered. Could she go across the bed and get out of the door before he caught her?
‘I think dear old Norman got a little intimidated by me.’ He sounded so philosophical about it all, as if they were discussing something quite ordinary and not his terrorising of an elderly man. ‘But I never took his hints that it was time I should leave and assured your nosey landlady that he was perfectly content with me. She kept asking me to dinner to meet you. That would’ve been a laugh, wouldn’t it? Obviously I refused and, as for Norman, he’s happy with the arrangement now. And you should thank him. He’s been supplying Bridget’s medical needs for years until they shoved him out of his surgery. He still knows a thing or two and told me how to get all those pills for you – well, for me technically, but it didn’t matter to you, did it, as long as it was you who shovelled the stuff down your ungrateful throat? You took the pills like a little baby bird, beak open, cheep, cheep, cheep, Matt: feed me, feed. You didn’t care how I got them or how difficult it was for me.’ A thought seemed to connect out of nowhere. ‘Have you been blowing those guys? Of course, you have! They paid enough to have you any way they liked, didn’t they? You, on your knees, lips all slicked up in that tramp lipstick I found—’
He was getting angry again. She had to get him back on the less explosive subject of Norman. ‘Why is Norman happy now?’ she signed. What had Matt done to him?
‘Forget him. I want to talk about you. Just tell me one thing: why, Jenny?’ Realising he was still holding the thong, he dropped it as if it now disgusted him and made a lunge for her. She tried to dodge but he seized her upper arms before she could escape and dragged her to him. He looked into her eyes, trying to root out her secrets. ‘Why did you do it, Jenny? I loved you: why wasn’t I enough?’
She couldn’t sign, couldn’t write, all she could do was raise her eyebrows in a question. This wasn’t the Matt she remembered, at least he had only been this way once … the night after the wedding reception. Oh please, God: not again! She couldn’t bear it! Her body shook in his grip, adrenalin pumping for fight or flight, but there seemed no chance of escape. He was so much stronger than her.
‘You’re looking at me so scared, so innocent! No shame or guilt! You don’t know what you’ve done, do you?’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘What a joke. Let me remind you, you worthless little whore! You should’ve come back to me – I’d’ve taken you back even then – but instead you spread your legs for God knows who else – the clothes, the taxis, the late nights. I watched you – tracked you through your phone – and you’re that stupid, you didn’t even realise that I’d activated a tracker app months ago. You were sharing your position with me every second of the day and night. You never once looked over your shoulder to see me watching you with those men, on their arm smiling so obediently, letting them touch you, going up to bed with them – one, two, it didn’t matter to you.’ He bent forward and rested his forehead on her shoulder. His skin was clammy. ‘You gave them what should’ve been mine. I’ve loved you forever, Jenny, and you keep on turning me away – ruining everything!’
She tried to push him off but that only resulted in him tightening his grip. Her hands began to tingle as he cut off the blood supply like a blood pressure cuff.
‘I waited for you to come back. Warned you I’d leave no more gifts, told you that you’d made me sad, but you didn’t come to me. Then that woman hurt you and I wanted her dead for daring to touch you – wanted everyone in this house buried, gone! So I’ve been waiting. I’ve decided I can’t let you do this to me any longer. It’s got to stop.’ Looking wildly around, he grabbed the scissors from the dressing table and held them to her throat. ‘This time I’ll make you mine for ever, then burn this fucking place to the ground.’ His voice broke and he started to push in the blunt ends, weeping as he did so. ‘You’ve made me do this! It’s your fault!’
Bewildered, it had taken too long for Jenny’s brain to catch up with the fact that she was in mortal danger and not just facing rape from him. Drenched in a cold sweat now, she bent over backwards, putting a little gap between herself and the blades. She opened her mouth and screamed just as a clashing chord burst out from the speaker. ‘JONAH!’