Keep Me Close : An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 13

  I smile, a warm glow spreading through me as I realise he’s serious.

  ‘Thank you. It does help to know I’m not completely alone in all this.’ I stand up, a little unsteadily, and scoop up my wine glass. ‘Shall we take this conversation through to the living room? I’ve got more wine in the fridge if you need a top-up.’

  ‘I should have brought two bottles, I’m sorry,’ he says ruefully.

  ‘It’s not a problem.’

  We settle on the sofa with the new bottle of wine, his knee brushing mine from time to time, and talk for a while about my mother and her health issues, and how Irina has given in her notice, which hasn’t helped. Eventually, I touch on the difficult topic of Mr Adeyemi, his veto of my Power of Attorney, and his recent visit to the house.

  ‘I know something happened between them,’ I say uneasily, sipping on my wine, ‘but I can’t be sure what. And Mum insists she can’t remember.’ I explain about the bruising to her upper arm and see him frown. ‘Plus, she keeps insisting that he’s going to benefit from her will. Financially, I mean.’

  ‘Good God.’

  ‘Yes, I was surprised too. Shocked, actually. I don’t know what to think. But it all seems very fishy to me.’

  ‘To me too.’ Logan hesitates. ‘Talking of things that are fishy, did you ever go to the police about those letters like I suggested?’

  I’m baffled, thrown off balance by this unexpected question. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ I search his face. ‘You think Mr Adeyemi sent them to me?’ When he shrugs, giving nothing away in his expression, I exclaim, ‘But why on earth would he do something like that? I can’t believe he even knows where I work. Don’t forget one of those letters arrived for me at the office. Through internal mail, in fact.’ I dismiss it as a possibility, though the idea he’s put into my head is certainly intriguing. ‘No, I don’t see the connection.’

  ‘Maybe it will become clearer in time. Meanwhile, it would be easy enough for a man like Adeyemi to discover where you work and just pop the letter through the front door of your office building, surely? A hand-delivered letter shows no postmark and could easily be mistaken for internal mail.’

  ‘I suppose.’ I chew on my lip. ‘But why? What would Adeyemi stand to gain by sending nasty mail like that?’

  ‘Put you on the back foot, in case you’re tempted to block the terms of your mother’s will.’

  ‘I don’t think that would be possible.’

  His eyebrows rise. ‘When she has dementia? And he’s stopping you from utilising your Power of Attorney? No, it sounds to me as though this solicitor has something to hide.’ He takes the glass from my hand and puts it on the coffee table while I stare at him, astonished. ‘The only question is, what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I begin to say, but am silenced when Logan leans forward to kiss me.

  When he pulls back, there’s a curious look on his face. ‘Good? Bad?’ His sudden smile is crooked. ‘Indifferent?’

  ‘Good,’ I whisper huskily.

  His smile straightens out. ‘Oh well, in that case,’ he whispers back, ‘I’d better do it again.’

  Although Logan has kissed me before after our dates, it’s usually been in a semi-public setting, a fleeting moment of pleasure. We’ve never been alone together in such an intimate, comfortable setting with the opportunity to take things further. Seated close together, we nestle against each other, our bodies sinking into the deep, soft cushions of the couch while his hands move restlessly over me.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed so passionately; my body is soon aching, my breath coming short and fast…

  Then, as if on cue, the door to the living room creaks open, and my head turns.

  Mum is standing there in her flannel nightie, blinking at the brightness of the light and swaying slightly on the threshold.

  ‘Oh,’ she says, staring at us with a bemused expression, ‘I thought I heard noises. Who are you?’

  Mortified, I jump up, awkwardly smoothing down my hair and rumpled dress. ‘This is Logan,’ I remind her. ‘You’ve met him before.’

  ‘Have I?’ She peers at him suspiciously.

  ‘Hello again, Mrs Kinley,’ he says politely, and stands up too. ‘Did we disturb you?’ He looks at me, and runs a hand through his own hair, acting as unsettled by this embarrassing interruption as I feel. ‘Maybe we were talking a little too loudly. I’m sorry if we woke you.’

  ‘Mum, what are you doing out of bed?’ I steer her out of the room, throwing an apologetic look over my shoulder at Logan. ‘Choose something for us to watch on Netflix, would you? Sorry.’ Closing the door on him, I turn to my mother. ‘So, did you need something? The toilet, maybe? Or a glass of water?’

  At first, my mother shakes her head, then abruptly changes her mind. ‘Both,’ she says decisively, and smiles, patting my arm. ‘You’re a good girl, Kate,’ she continues, surprising me by saying my name, which she rarely does these days because names don’t come easily to her anymore, not even mine. ‘You’re always there for me.’

  I wish that were true, I think with a pang of guilt, remembering how she burnt herself in my absence.

  She peers at me, frowning. ‘You won’t leave me, will you? You won’t go off with that man and leave your mother all alone?’

  ‘Of course not, Mum.’

  ‘Because I know what it’s like when you meet someone you like. When you fall in love… Sometimes you just can’t help it.’

  I’m not sure now if she’s talking about me and Logan or her and Dad, or some misty past even I don’t know about.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mum. I’m not going anywhere. Now, come on. Let’s get you sorted out, shall we? Glass of water first?’

  By the time Mum’s had a few sips of cold water and a trip to the loo, and I’ve gently manoeuvred her back into bed, it’s almost half an hour later.

  I return to the living room to find Logan on his knees in front of the television, playing with the remote control.

  He turns to smile at me. ‘In your absence, I made an executive decision. I opted for the latest Bond film. I hope that’s not too mainstream.’

  ‘No, it’s perfect.’ I sink down on the sofa again, my nerves a bit frazzled. He joins me there a moment later, adjusting the volume as the film begins. ‘I’m so sorry about my mum. The way she walked in on us… I didn’t know where to look; I was so embarrassed.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He moves a lock of hair off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear, his face relaxed. ‘She’s your mother and this is her house. She has every right to come looking for you.’

  ‘But you’ve had to wait all this time…’

  ‘Because her needs come first.’ He shakes his head at my chagrin. ‘No, that’s why I like you so much, Kate. You care deeply for your mother. You’re a caring person, and that’s a quality very few people possess these days.’

  I feel myself blushing, and don’t know what to say.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

  ‘You’re welcome. And you should never apologise for needing to look after your mother. It’s a wonderful thing.’

  I hesitate, thinking back to our earlier conversation. ‘So you think I should go to the police about that bruising on Mum’s arm? And mention the nasty letters at the same time? I mean, assuming you still suspect he might be the one who sent them. There could be a connection there…’

  He looks at me seriously. ‘You said your mother really likes this Adeyemi guy. Did I get that right?’ When I nod, he pulls a face. ‘Then you know it’s going to upset her if you openly accuse him of abusing her or sending those letters. If there’s any chance she could have hurt herself, it might be better to wait and see if it happens again. Or just make sure she never sees him alone again.’

  I consider that. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. Mum wouldn’t understand if I made an official complaint against Mr Adeyemi.’ I sigh, feeling crushed by the hopelessness of the situation. ‘Besides, since she claims not to rememb
er how that bruising happened, it’s unlikely the police could do anything about it anyway.’

  ‘Except blame you,’ he says softly.

  I’m shocked. ‘Me?’

  ‘You live with her, Kate. You’re the one the police are most likely to assume has been mistreating her. Most assaults on older people are domestic, i.e., another family member turns out to be responsible.’

  I hadn’t thought of it like that before, and the horror must show in my face, because he leans forward and kisses me on the lips again.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry about it. Just let it go.’ Logan settles back against the cushions, our bodies brushing up against each other with easy warmth. The opening sequence has started, and his gaze has strayed back to the television screen. ‘Now, it’s time to enjoy some spy action. With a few car chases thrown in, I hope. I haven’t actually seen this one.’

  ‘I have to admit, Ruby and I were pretty sure you’d choose an action film.’

  He laughs. ‘You and Ruby been discussing me, have you? Am I that predictable?’

  ‘Well, the rest of the films on my Netflix wishlist are romcoms or historical dramas—’

  ‘So I noticed. God spare me!’

  I laugh too, and allow myself to snuggle against him as his arm slips about my waist. ‘To be honest, I’m glad you’re predictable,’ I admit shyly. ‘There’s enough in my life that leaves me guessing right now without adding you to the list.’

  Logan doesn’t reply to that, and when I turn my head in surprise, I find him already watching the film with an intent, narrow-eyed expression. But I have the oddest feeling he heard precisely what I said and simply chose to pretend he hadn’t.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There’s a text on my phone when I stretch out to check it early next morning, turning over sleepily in bed to find a man where there’s usually a cool space.

  Logan spent the night with me. I didn’t plan for that, but by the time midnight came along, I was open to the possibility, and when his goodnight kiss turned hotter, I chose to go along with it. It felt like the right thing to do.

  And I’ve been lonely in recent months, wondering what it would be like to try a new relationship. The horror of David’s sudden death still haunts me today. But at least with Logan, I don’t need to explain any of that.

  It’s not easy though. David’s suicide hangs between us in a silent, uneasy way, the elephant in the room, but it’s been a mutual decision not to discuss it in any depth. And while it does feel strange and a little unsettling to wake up in bed with a new man, I’m also liberated by the experience.

  I’ve finally moved on.

  The text on my phone is from Ruby. It seems to have arrived unnoticed sometime during the early hours.

  Sorry for the last minute notice. Staying out all night. Back 8am.

  ‘Shit.’

  I struggle up out of bed, abruptly awake, and Logan stirs as the bedsprings depress, opening sleepy eyes and yawning.

  ‘Morning,’ he drawls, and then seems to catch on to my tension. ‘Something wrong?’

  I hadn’t realised that Ruby wasn’t in the house and so didn’t bother to check on Mum during the night, which I used to do faithfully at about three or four o’clock. Mum tends to be a bit of a nocturnal wanderer, and can sometimes forget where she is and get in a tizzy over it.

  ‘Hopefully not. Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ I go to the door. ‘I need to check on Mum.’

  ‘Doesn’t Ruby do that for you?’

  ‘She didn’t come back last night. I just spotted a text from her.’

  ‘You need help?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. With any luck, she’ll still be in bed.’

  But my luck is out.

  Downstairs, I find Mum’s bed empty and no sign of her in either the kitchen or the living room.

  ‘Mum?’

  Standing in the hall in my dressing gown, I shiver, feeling a cold draught, and realise the front door is slightly ajar.

  Horrified, I drag the door open and rush outside in bare feet.

  ‘Mum?’

  My mother is lying on the drive, a little way from the house. Ignoring the tiny stabbing pain of gravel digging into the soles of my bare feet, I stumble over there and help her up. She’s groaning, almost incoherent, and her face is as pale as a wax figure.

  ‘Come on,’ I pant, struggling to support her weight back inside the house, and am relieved to see Logan, fully dressed, charging out to help. ‘Yes, we need to get her back to bed. And maybe call an ambulance. She’s had a fall. I only pray she hasn’t broken anything.’

  ‘What was she doing outside?’

  ‘God only knows.’

  As we carry her between us back into her bedroom, I spot that she’s wearing her slippers. That’s a mercy, at least. I shudder to think what damage she might have done to her fragile skin if she had left the house barefoot, as I did. Though I can’t understand what prompted her to leave the house in the first place. And I was so sure I had locked the front door before going upstairs with Logan a little after midnight.

  But I must have been mistaken, because it’s been a long time since Mum was able to let herself out through a locked door. Though not impossible, I suppose. The keys are hanging up next to the door, after all.

  ‘She has a tendency to wander off. I usually check on her at some point during the night, but…’

  ‘But last night I stayed over. That distracted you.’ He looks grim.

  In her room, we lay her down on the bed, and I gingerly remove her slippers. Her feet are freezing, nonetheless, and I try to chafe some warmth into them, rubbing gently.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ I tell him, so crushed with guilt that I can barely look up at him. ‘It’s my fault. I had too much to drink last night; that’s what it was. On a weeknight too. If I’d been sober, I would have noticed that text from Ruby and known to check on Mum earlier.’

  ‘Kate, you can’t blame yourself for this.’

  ‘Then who should I blame? You? Ruby? Mum, perhaps?’ I’m speaking in a low, savage voice, and I can see the effect that it’s having on him, but I don’t care. ‘That’s ridiculous. Her care is my responsibility, and when something like this happens, it’s my fault, and mine alone.’

  I straighten up, my gaze on the woman resting now on the bed, her eyes closed, no colour in her cheeks whatsoever.

  ‘I should have kept a closer eye on her. I was too busy enjoying myself. Now look what I’ve done!’

  ‘Probably best to discover exactly what’s happened before beating yourself up over it.’ Logan, his hands sunk in his trouser pockets, regards my mother sombrely. ‘She looks very pale. Does she need an ambulance, do you think? Or should we call out her doctor? It’s a private practice, isn’t it?’

  I’m surprised that he knows Mum sees a private doctor, but maybe I mentioned it to him on one of our dates.

  I check Mum over assessingly; although she’s stopped making the little moaning noises, her breathing is faster than I would like, and as Logan said, she looks very unwell. ‘Mum, can you hear me?’ I drape a warm tartan throw across her body. ‘Are you hurt at all?’

  Her eyes open, and she stares around the room in a strange, wondering way, her gaze resting briefly on Logan.

  ‘It’s my hip that hurts, that’s all,’ she says in a hoarse whisper, looking back at me. ‘I… I must have banged it when I fell.’

  I check her hip gingerly, but she gives another moan at my touch, so I leave it and turn to Logan. ‘An ambulance would be best, don’t you think? She needs to be checked over at a hospital. The phone’s in the hall.’

  He nods and disappears.

  ‘What were you doing outside?’ I ask her, struggling to understand. ‘And so early too?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she says plaintively. ‘I can’t remember, darling. Did… Did you tell me to go outside? I thought you did.’

  ‘No, I certainly didn’t. Why would I do such a thing?’ My voice rises slightly as the full hor
ror of the situation floods over me. ‘How long were you lying out there on the gravel? Minutes? Hours?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You could have died of exposure. Oh God, I can’t bear it…’

  I sink down next to her on the bed and burst into tears, unable to hold it back any longer.

  My mother peers up at me, clearly astonished. ‘Goodness. Whatever’s the matter?’ Her voice sounds almost normal, and if it weren’t for her pallor, I would think nothing was wrong. ‘I just had a little tumble, that’s all. Why are you crying?’

  ‘Because I did this to you. I’m so useless… I ruin everything I touch.’

  Mum’s silent for a moment, as though digesting this. Then she shakes her head and says slowly, ‘This isn’t like you, Kate. You’re not a crier. You’re not the sort who gives up just because something’s difficult. Whatever would your father say?’

  I give a gurgling sob at her coherence, and the use of my name, and make an effort to pull myself together. If she can be strong in the face of this overwhelming despair, so can I.

  ‘I know, Mum, I know.’ I try to drag the tartan throw higher up her chest, to keep her warm, but she bats it away impatiently. Even now, when she must be so chilled, she hates me fussing. I arrange it over her legs instead and she seems to accept that. ‘It’s just been so hellish lately. I’m finding it hard to keep smiling.’

  ‘Well, dry your eyes, darling,’ she whispers, ‘and just go get him. He’ll sort everything out, you’ll see.’

  I sniff, and pat my damp cheeks with the backs of my hands. I’m feeling calmer now, thank goodness. And Mum’s not unconscious, at least. She’s talking clearly and making sense. That has to be a good sign, surely?

  Then her words slowly filter through to me, and my brows draw together in puzzlement.

  Just go get him.

  I hear Logan’s deep voice in the hall, speaking to someone at the emergency services, explaining what has happened.