WATCHING YOU_The gripping edge-of-the-seat thriller with a stunning twist. Read online

  ‘Yes,’ I say, glancing out of the window.

  ‘He knows not to come near you.’

  ‘You think that will stop him?’

  ‘He won’t want to go back inside, Libby.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say.

  ‘Just get on with your life and don’t think about him.’

  I never stop thinking about him.

  ‘Right,’ I say, picking up Merlin.

  ‘Try and sound convincing.’

  I smile.

  ‘Thanks Fran.’

  ‘If you’re even slightly concerned just call me. You have my mobile number. It’s there for you, day or night. That’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘I promise.’

  She hangs up and I look out of the window at the busy London street below. It’s a perfect summer’s day. People are out enjoying the sunshine. He’ll come looking for me. I know he will. I turn from the window and with Merlin at my heels walk into the bedroom. Will it be soon, or will he wait? I hold my hands out in front of me. They’re trembling. Damn it. I’d taken all the precautions I could. It is impossible to find me on the internet. The front door has two triple locks. The main entrance has a concierge. I’m well protected. I should take Fran’s advice. Forget about him. He can’t touch me now.

  I put on my Jaeger suit and look at my reflection with pleasure. I slip into my heels and then everything is perfect. I’m different now. The gawky 17-year-old girl has gone. The thick auburn hair is now blonde. My freckles have been bleached away. I’d changed my surname by deed poll. There is nothing left of the old Libby Owen. Perhaps he won’t find me. I take one final look in the mirror and then unlock the front door. I step into the plush lift. A fragrance lingers. It’s a man’s aftershave. It won’t be his. He’s too rough and earthy for aftershave. The concierge greets me with a nod. I walk from the air-conditioned building and onto the pavement, the hot sticky air hitting me. Two women pass me. I recognise them but we don’t speak. I’m anonymous, nobody in the block knows me. I talk to no one. I could be a ghost flitting in and out for how much people notice me. I’ve deliberately kept it this way. It suits me. I look up and down the street. Would I recognise him? Would I know his voice? I sometimes hear his Scottish lilt in my dreams, but do I really remember it?

  The cab I’d booked is waiting by the kerb.

  ‘Ladbroke Grove,’ I say. ‘Walton Street.’

  I study my phone and check my appointments. I’ve two meetings and a presentation for a prospective client. There’ll be time to look at the project Donna had told me about before I meet her for lunch at The Ivy.

  ‘Busy day?’ asks the cab driver.

  ‘Every day is busy,’ I reply.

  ‘It’s the only way,’ he smiles through the rear-view mirror.

  It’s as though he knows that keeping busy is the only way I can keep sane.

  Chapter Five

  Fifteen years earlier

  ‘Come on Ewan, you can do it.’

  Ewan laughed, exposing his pearly white teeth. He twirled the darts in his hand and waited for the noise to die down. He didn’t want any distractions. His eyes feasted on the trophy sitting on the bar.

  ‘Ewan,’ someone shouted impatiently.

  Ewan ignored him and took a long drink of his bitter while eyeing the dartboard. He was so close. He flexed his fingers enjoying the tension around him. With a half-smile he lifted the dart and threw it. The crowd cheered as the dart hit triple twenty.

  ‘Come on,’ someone yelled. ‘Get on with it.’

  Anticipation rippled all around him. Ewan studied the board and slid his finger along the dart. It was all on him. He didn’t want to rush things. This was a moment to savour. Dianne nodded at him, her face proud. He took a deep breath, pulled his arm back, hesitated for the briefest of moments and then threw the dart. He watched it glide through the air. The pub was silent. You could hear a pin drop. Then there was the thud as the dart hit the board and the pub suddenly erupted. He’d done it. He struggled to stay upright from all the pats on his back. There were grunts from the opposing team. Before he knew what was happening, Ewan was lifted from the floor and held aloft. Luke, the landlord, thrust the shiny trophy into Ewan’s hands.

  ‘Drinks on the house,’ shouted Luke over the raucous cheers.

  Ewan was lowered, and everyone crowded to the bar.

  ‘Well done,’ said Dianne, hugging him. ‘You’ll be Padley’s hero for some time to come.’

  He laughed. It was only a stupid darts match, but he felt good. Patti grinned at him from across the room. He looked for Ben but couldn’t see him in the throng. He took two pints from the bar and strolled over to her.

  ‘You’re going to be popular for a while,’ she drawled, taking a beer.

  Several men slapped him on the back.

  ‘You clever bastard,’ roared one.

  ‘Where’s Ben tonight?’ Ewan asked.

  ‘They’re out night fishing,’ she said, tossing back her hair.

  Ewan glanced down at the swell of her breasts in the tight-fitting top.

  ‘I hope you brought a coat. It’s cold out there.’

  ‘Of course, do I look daft?’ she smiled.

  Ewan licked his lips and said,

  ‘Someone better see you home. No woman’s safe with this drunken rabble.’

  ‘Ben will be grateful,’ she said.

  Dianne brushed against him, her eyes flashing a warning.

  ‘Some of us are going for a curry. Are you coming Ewan?’

  ‘Nah, I need to get back to the Manor. Cover the horses. It’s going to be a cold one.’

  Dianne glanced warily at Patti and said,

  ‘Well, if you change your mind that’s where Greg and I will be.’

  Ewan glanced at Greg and waved. Greg was a good bloke. Steady and reliable.

  ‘Have a good night,’ Ewan smiled.

  ‘You’re mad playing around with her Ewan?’ Dianne whispered.

  Patti was pulling on her fake fur coat.

  ‘If Ben ever finds out you won’t stand a chance against him and his fisherman mates,’ Dianne warned.

  Ewan kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.’

  Dianne shook her head and followed Greg from the pub. Patti gave her a half-smile as she passed.

  ‘Your sister is pissed at me,’ she said sidling up to Ewan.

  ‘Not in here,’ Ewan said, pushing her away.

  She gave a sulky look.

  ‘I’ll meet you round the corner, behind the fish and chip shop,’ he said, turning his back on her.

  Patti shrugged.

  ‘Okay lover boy,’ she whispered before turning to the men at the bar.

  ‘See you Luke,’ she called to the landlord.

  ‘You take care of yourself now, Patti,’ said one of the men. ‘Don’t get waylaid on the way home now.’

  The other men laughed. Ewan grabbed his jacket and said, ‘I’m getting some air. You lot going to be here when I get back.’

  ‘Air he calls it,’ laughed one.

  Ewan grinned and wandered outside. The cold sea breeze stung his cheeks. He looked down the road for Patti but there was no sign of her. He pushed his hands into his pockets and sauntered to the fish and chip shop. The sound of the waves breaking against the rocks reached his ears and he thought of Ben. Stupid bastard fishing in this weather, he thought. A hand grabbed his sleeve and he was pulled into the alley behind the chip shop.

  ‘Where have you been?’ said Patti hoarsely.

  He’s pulled into the warmth of her open fur coat.

  ‘Here you are big boy,’ she said, placing his hand onto her swollen breast.

  His breathing quickened.

  ‘Not here,’ he muttered but he couldn’t think clearly where else they could go.

  ‘It’s as good as anywhere,’ she groaned into his ear, her hand expertly undoing his flies.

  Her cold lips met his and he buried his hands deep in the coolne
ss of her hair.

  ‘Fuck me now,’ she whispered.

  He turned her roughly so she was facing the wall. She slid her hand down her panties and felt the wetness.

  ‘Jesus Ewan, you make me so horny.’

  It was quick. It was always quick with Patti and he liked it that way.

  He pushed himself into her and sank as deep as he could. She groaned and leaned back to grasp his hips, pulling him deeper into her wetness.

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ she groaned, the mountain of pleasure overwhelming her.

  ‘Fuck me hard baby.’

  He gripped her breasts and quickened his pace. There were footsteps and laughter. People were leaving the pub. It heightened their excitement, the thought of being discovered.

  ‘Make me come, Ewan,’ Patti begged.

  He slid one hand down the front of her panties and touched her. Within seconds she jerked and thrashed beneath him. He pounded her roughly and then groaned into her hair as his own orgasm shook his body.

  Within seconds Patti had pulled her knickers up and wrapped her fur coat around her. She pecked Ewan on the cheek and said,

  ‘See you baby.’

  Ewan exhaled and zipped up his jacket. He listened to Patti’s footsteps and waited until they became faint before heading out of the alley and into the fish and chip shop.

  Chapter Six

  Present day

  Ewan walked along the pier and past McDonald’s. What happened to the chippy, he wondered. He turned the corner and smiled. There it was, The Crown. That hadn’t changed, at least not from the outside. The doors were open. It was lunchtime and it was busy. He hesitated. It had been fifteen years since he’d been inside. He had no idea what reception he would get. The mood before the court case had been supportive. No one thought he’d get banged up, least of all him. Molly and Kevin had visited. He’d been grateful for that.

  ‘Everyone’s behind you,’ they’d said.

  Now he would find out if that was the truth. He walked slowly towards the doors. A few heads turned to glance his way, but they were strangers and didn’t recognise him. He walked through the throng outside the pub and entered. It was several minutes before heads began to turn. The room was buzzing but slowly it quietened down and it seemed like everyone was looking at Ewan Galbreith.

  Kevin on his lunchbreak left his table and hurried over.

  ‘Alright Ewan,’ he said ignoring the stares and shaking Ewan by the hand.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ewan nodded looking around.

  Luke waved from the bar.

  ‘What are you having Ewan? I’ve got a nice malt whisky.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ smiled Ewan. ‘Glad to see you’re still here.’

  ‘They’ll take me out in a wooden box mate,’ laughed Luke.

  ‘Sit at our table,’ said Kevin.

  A young man sitting there looked curiously at Ewan and it took a few seconds for Ewan to realise it was Peter.

  ‘Hey Peter,’ he smiled.

  ‘Ewan,’ Peter nodded.

  ‘You’re no longer a lad,’ smiled Ewan.

  Luke brought over a bottle of whisky and placed it on the table.

  ‘On the house. Look at it as a welcome home present. Good to see you Ewan.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ewan, ‘that’ll go down well.’

  ‘Have you got a job?’ asked Peter shyly.

  ‘Yeah, at Greg’s garage. It’s not my thing. Where do you work?’

  ‘With Kevin at Hard Acre Farm. It’s okay work.’

  They drank in silence, speaking only when someone came over to acknowledge Ewan. Finally, Peter leant forward and said,

  ‘Have you been back to Manstead?’

  Ewan threw back his whisky

  ‘No reason to.’

  ‘It’s like a mausoleum isn’t it Kev?’

  Kev nodded.

  ‘No one has been there since … Well … they just shut the place up. Furniture is still there. Everything is the same, just no people.’

  Ewan’s ears pricked up.

  ‘Everything is the same?’

  Kevin nodded.

  ‘She hasn’t been back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where’s Molly working these days?’

  ‘She works in the café on the beach front, Sally Anne’s.’ It doesn’t pay as well as Manstead. I don’t think we appreciated that place.’

  A group of men approached the table and Peter stiffened.

  ‘Ewan,’ said one.

  Ewan turned in his seat.

  ‘Good to see you back here,’ said another.

  They patted him on the back and offered to buy him a drink.

  ‘I’ve got a bottle,’ Ewan grinned.

  ‘Next time then mate.’

  Peter relaxed.

  ‘What are you stressed about?’ asked Kevin. ‘Ewan can take care of himself, always could. Isn’t that right, Ewan?’

  Ewan poured whisky into their glasses.

  ‘But I’m not looking for trouble.’

  ‘Trouble may come looking for you,’ said Kevin.

  Peter felt sure that Kevin was right. A lot of the blokes in Padley said Ewan was innocent, but Peter wasn’t so sure. He remembered how Ewan used to blow hot and cold. Peter had liked Libby. Not many employers mixed with the staff like she used to. If Libby said she saw Ewan shoot her uncle then he believed her.

  Chapter Seven

  Present day (six weeks later)

  Libby

  Donna opens the door and looks at me, her nostrils flaring and her eyes flashing with anger.

  ‘Oh you’re here. I was just about to text you again. Where the fuck have you been? Jesus Libby, you’re nearly an hour late.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say meekly.

  I should have texted.

  ‘I got cold feet and …’

  ‘Christ,’ groans Donna pulling me in. ‘It’s a good job I didn’t do a hot meal.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumble.

  ‘It’s only a few friends,’ she says with a sigh.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I just thought you might hit it off with Simon that’s all,’ she says nodding to the kitchen.

  I see him through a gap in the doorway and my heart starts to race. He looks up and my mouth turns dry.

  ‘Come on in,’ says Donna.

  I’m thrust into the bustling kitchen where Joel is uncorking a bottle of champagne and several people I recognise as Donna’s work colleagues are laughing by the buffet table.

  ‘Finally,’ says Joel, thrusting a flute of champagne into my hand. ‘We’d given you up.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say again.

  I feel the man’s eyes on me. I’m afraid to look at him.

  ‘Come and meet Simon,’ Donna says. ‘And stop being so paranoid. He’s a nice guy.’

  I turn and he’s there in front of me. His blond hair is gelled back from his forehead. He seems very studious with his black-rimmed glasses. He isn’t anything like Ewan Galbreith. He’s looking at me uncertainly. There’s nothing of the Ewan confidence about him. Donna’s right, I’m becoming paranoid. Ewan’s been out six weeks now and I haven’t heard a thing. Everything is going to be fine after all. He’s most likely forgotten about me and is getting on with his life.

  ‘Libby finally made it,’ says Donna. ‘This is Simon Wane. Simon’s a property surveyor. I told Simon you were in graphic design. Libby designed the Plaslow promotional posters.’

  He’s holding a cheese and pineapple stick in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other.

  ‘Erm,’ he says, looking at each in turn.

  He shrugs and pops the cheese and pineapple into his mouth and then puts his warm soft hand into mine.

  ‘Hi Libby, nice to meet you,’ he says. ‘Plaslow is a beautiful complex.’

  He sounds nice. I feel myself relax. He has a slight north-country accent, at least I think it is north-country, fair hair and beneath his black-rimmed glasses I can see his eyes are a deep blue.

  ‘Thank you,’ I sa
y.

  ‘Help yourself to food,’ says Donna. ‘Now you’re finally here, Libby, we can all bloody eat.’

  ‘I’m in trouble,’ I say.

  He smiles, revealing slightly crooked teeth. He’s good looking in a clean-cut kind of way. He loosens his tie and nods to the buffet.

  ‘After you,’ he says.

  I’d been so anxious about coming that my hands are still trembling. I’m sure he can tell.

  ‘So, how long have you been in graphic design?’ he says, handing me a plate.

  ‘About twelve years.’

  He seems to be waiting for me to say more. I don’t.

  ‘How long have you been a surveyor?’ I ask.

  I try to remember what Donna had told me about him. ‘He’s lovely. He’s single, I’m not sure why. A bad relationship, Joel said. He’s still a bit tender, apparently.’ I glance at him as he studies the buffet. I’d guess him to be late thirties. I picture his fair hair falling over his forehead. He would look younger without it gelled back. He’s just your type, Donna had said. She has no idea what my type is.

  ‘How do you know Joel and Donna?’ he asks.

  I’m so hot. I fan myself with a serviette. My cheeks feel flushed from the champagne. I need to eat something.

  ‘I did the graphics for her marketing brochure three years ago,’ I say, helping myself to some quiche. ‘How do you know them?’

  He grins self-consciously.

  ‘I rescued their dog.’

  ‘Sammy?’

  ‘Yes. It was in Regents Park. By chance I’d been chatting to them about what a beautiful dog he was when his lead broke and he ran off. About ten minutes later I saw him running towards the park entrance. I remembered his name and luckily caught him before he went into the road.’

  He seems embarrassed by the story.

  ‘Donna adores Sammy. She would be heartbroken if anything happened to him.’

  ‘So why were you late today?’ he asks. A half-smile plays on his lips. Does he know I was apprehensive about meeting him? What has Donna told him? Donna is one of the few people I’ve trusted with my story. I learnt early on that ‘so-called’ friends will quickly betray you, if there is money involved. The press are always hungry for stories like mine. The public feasts on the horror like vultures. It’s easy for them to read it from a distance and pull apart my life for entertainment. I still get offers to appear on chat shows. The fascination for my story seems endless. William said it would have died a natural death if only I had agreed to do them.