Keep Me Close : An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 3

  I feel embarrassed. ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’

  ‘Kate…’

  ‘I thought I saw someone in the garden a few minutes ago. But I probably imagined it. Or maybe it was a neighbour.’

  He doesn’t smile, looking sombre instead. ‘Would you like me to take a look?’

  ‘Would you?’ It’s not very feminist of me to enlist his help, perhaps. But it’ll be getting dark soon, and the thought of some unknown bloke possibly creeping about the grounds while I’m out gives me the creeps.

  ‘Of course.’ Logan turns to survey the garden. ‘Whereabouts did you see this lurker?’

  I point out the area, and he strides across the lawn without the slightest hesitation, disappearing into the undergrowth a moment later.

  I nip back in and briefly check on Mum. She’s got her eyes closed and seems to be having a nap, so I return to the doorstep.

  Still no sign of Giorgios. Where on earth can he be?

  Logan still hasn’t returned.

  Uncertain, I take a few steps down the gravel path and onto the lawn, though my heels sink into the damp, uncut grass.

  Everything is still.

  I listen hard for sounds of him searching the undergrowth; all I can hear is the steady hum of traffic on the main road and a plane somewhere in the distance. But there are birds chukking in alarm in the dark cluster of trees, and suddenly I catch a faint rustle from the shrubs where the lawn meets the undergrowth. Is that Logan coming back?

  I take a step closer. ‘Hello?’

  Nothing stirs beyond the lawn. In vain, I scan the beech trees, elder and hawthorn, their roots shrouded in low-creeping plants and shrubs. And there’s the wide-girthed sycamore, with an old wooden swing still attached to one of the lower branches, that I used to play on as a teenager, swinging back and forth on my own or being pushed by my brother…

  The rustling sound comes again. Louder now.

  I step back, holding my breath.

  Seconds later, Logan bursts out of the undergrowth, and a bird in a nearby tree clatters away in surprise.

  ‘Nobody there,’ he calls to me, heading my way. ‘I went all the way to the back fence. Looks secure enough.’

  He has mud on his boots. Mortified, I pull a face. ‘What a wild goose chase. I’m so sorry, I must be seeing things…’

  ‘It’s not a problem.’ His smile reassures me. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

  At the door, he wipes his boots on the outside mat and then follows me into the house. Mum is awake again, sitting up and craning round to see who it is.

  ‘This is my mother,’ I say awkwardly. ‘Mum, this is Logan. He was one of David’s friends.’

  She stares at him, saying nothing.

  ‘Hello,’ Logan says, and gives her a friendly smile. Then, when she greets this with a continuing silence, he looks back at me. ‘Did you ring the sitter? Just in case she forgot.’

  ‘It’s a he,’ I say, and check my phone again. Still nothing from Giorgios. I’m so stressed out now, I don’t know what to do. ‘Maybe we should stay in. I could cook us a meal.’ I haven’t even checked what’s in the fridge. ‘Or defrost something.’

  He looks amused. ‘You don’t sound too keen.’ He gets out his own phone. ‘Look, maybe I can ring one of my friends, who’s in a similar situation. He might be able to recommend a carer at short notice.’

  ‘Mum’s used to Giorgios.’

  ‘Of course, stupid of me.’ He puts his phone away again. ‘Dinner here would be fine. Maybe we could all eat together. Or watch a film.’

  Together?

  The horror of sitting down to eat dinner with him and my mother, who frequently needs help with eating and would certainly need her food cut up into little bits, and who tends not to eat much by way of an evening meal anyway, is too much for me. That’s not how I envisaged tonight’s date.

  As for us all watching a film, I can already imagine Mum constantly interrupting to ask for an explanation that swiftly becomes circuitous as she asks for it to be repeated again and again.

  I love my mother dearly. But there are limits…

  ‘Give me a few minutes,’ I say with a smile, trying not to sound too despairing, and slip into the hall.

  The agency number is on the hall table. I try them, but it’s only the voicemail service. There’s a flier too, from a new carer. They might be worth trying. But I don’t like having people in the house who aren’t properly vetted, or at the very least recommended to me by a friend.

  I hesitate, then call Stella from my yoga class instead. She’s always waxing lyrical about her dad’s marvellous nurse, who knows everything about dementia patients and is so thoughtful. It makes me quite envious to hear her talk about him.

  To my relief, she answers at the second ring. ‘Hello, Kate,’ Stella almost shouts down the phone, a cacophony of noise in the background. ‘Sorry about the racket; we’ve got the telly turned right up so Dad can hear it. He’s deaf in one ear, did I ever tell you? Anyway, better speak up…’

  Raising my voice, I explain that Giorgios hasn’t shown up to sit with my mother, and Stella instantly sympathises.

  ‘Do you want my carer’s number? Francis is wonderful; he’ll come right over.’ Then, halfway through reading out his telephone number, she groans and says, ‘I’m sorry, I just remembered, he asked me last week not to recommend him to anyone else because he’s got no slots free at the moment. I’ve been giving his name out to everyone who asks. Very naughty of me.’

  ‘Damn,’ I mutter, panicking.

  ‘Is it really that urgent?’

  ‘It’s my first date in years,’ I say, lowering my voice and hoping that Logan can’t hear me. ‘I’m all dressed up, and now…’

  ‘That’s awful, you poor thing. I don’t know what to suggest… Oh, hang on a tick. I forgot about Ruby.’

  ‘Ruby? Who’s that?’

  ‘She was recommended to me by someone before I got the Fabulous Francis. Apparently, she’s really sweet and utterly brilliant with dementia patients. So good you’ll never go back to Giorgios.’

  I grin. ‘I don’t know about that. I sometimes think Mum loves Giorgios more than she loves me. But if this Ruby can look after Mum tonight, I’ll probably thank her on my knees.’

  ‘She’s not cheap, as I recall.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  ‘She put a flier through the door. But I don’t know what I did with mine.’

  ‘A flier?’ I blink. ‘Oh, I got that one too. It’s right in front of me! Ruby Chambers? Thanks, Stella.’

  I dial the number and it rings about seven times, while my heart thumps ridiculously. Please answer, I think grimly. I want this date with Logan to go well, and right now it seems doomed to fail.

  At last, somebody answers.

  ‘Hello?’ It’s a woman’s voice, deep and rich and melodic. ‘Ruby Chambers here, can I help you?’

  I explain the situation, and to my relief, she agrees to come straight over. She insists on texting me her usual references so I can feel secure leaving her with my mother. I give her the postcode for the Sat Nav, we discuss a fee, and then I ring off.

  When I turn around, Logan is in the doorway to the living room, watching me intently.

  ‘Did you manage to find someone?’ he asks quickly.

  ‘Yes, no problem. A woman called Ruby is coming over right away to sit with her.’

  Hurriedly, I check the two referees’ names that she sent through and feel reassured. One of them is a woman I know from a charity I volunteered with a few years back, and another is one of our local councillors. Dad was quite active in the small community around here during my teens, so I know most people involved in local politics.

  ‘Unusual name,’ Logan comments.

  ‘I suppose so. Once she’s here, and I’ve introduced her to my mother, we can go out.’ I catch sight of my flushed face in the hall mirror and feel a little self-conscious. All this nonsense must seem very chaotic and disorganised to him. ‘I’m so sorry
about this. It shouldn’t be much longer. Ruby said she’d be about twenty minutes.’

  My nerves are frayed, and no wonder. This isn’t just any first date; this is one of David’s closest friends. Part of me is pleased that we’ll be able to go out for a meal tonight after all. But part of me is afraid of what he may ask me about David. About his death, in particular.

  But Logan doesn’t seem to notice my uneasiness.

  ‘That’s wonderful. Though I can still cancel the restaurant if necessary. I’ll happily stay in with you and your mother if you feel at all uncomfortable.’

  ‘No, I want to go out.’

  ‘Okay.’ He glances over his shoulder at the drinks tray on the sideboard. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m parched. Shall I pour us both an aperitif while we wait? Mine will be non-alcoholic, of course, since I’m the designated driver tonight.’

  I force a confident smile to my lips. ‘That would be perfect, thank you.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ruby surprises me by being completely lovely, just as Stella had described her to me. She’s quite tall compared to me, and a little on the well-built side, with comfortably padded hips and a prominent chest disguised by a long suede skirt and flowery overshirt, topped with a soft purple pashmina shawl that covers all sins. She also has a frank smile and intelligent eyes, though keeps referring to me as ‘love’, which I find a little overfamiliar.

  But I’m ecstatic that she’s here, so I accept her ‘love’ with a nod and a grateful handshake.

  Briefly, I recap what I already told her on the phone so she’s up to speed with Mum’s medical condition, and then point her towards the soup I’ve been heating for Mum’s supper.

  ‘She doesn’t tend to eat anything heavier than soup or a salad in the evenings,’ I add, in case she thinks soup a bit of a miserly meal.

  ‘Don’t fret, love. I’ll make sure she gets the soup.’ Ruby also shakes hands with Logan, who’s still lurking in the hallway when she arrives, having long since finished his non-alcoholic drink. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  He nods, then flicks me a glance. ‘I’ll wait in the car, shall I?’ he says diplomatically.

  When he’s gone, I take Ruby through to the living room to meet my mother. ‘Mum,’ I say gently, hoping she won’t kick up a fuss, ‘this is the lady who’ll be sitting with you tonight.’

  My mother looks up from under frowning brows. She’s looking a bit confused, which worries me. I have a feeling she nodded off while we were out of the room and isn’t quite aware of her surroundings yet.

  ‘Lady? What lady?’ Her bleary gaze swings past Ruby as though she doesn’t see her. She does, of course. But she’s often unwilling to acknowledge anyone she doesn’t recognise or would rather not see. Mum can be stubborn that way. ‘Where’s Giorgios?’

  I explain again about Giorgios’s non-arrival, adding cheerily, ‘Ruby, this is my mother, Celeste.’

  ‘How do you do, Celeste.’ Ruby bends forward to shake her hand, but Mum doesn’t lift hers in response. Thankfully, Ruby’s smile is patient and understanding. ‘Or would you prefer Mrs Kinley?’

  ‘Celeste,’ Mum mutters. ‘Ruby… That’s an old-fashioned name.’

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ Ruby perches on the sofa opposite my mother. She seems amused rather than offended. ‘Though Celeste isn’t a very common name either. Perhaps we should go on the stage together. Ruby and Celeste. Has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?’

  Mum looks astonished.

  For a moment, I’m afraid Mum will launch into one of her tantrums and refuse to have Ruby sit with her tonight.

  But Mum studies Ruby suspiciously, and then asks, ‘Do you like crossword puzzles?’

  ‘Not much,’ Ruby admits.

  ‘Good.’ Mum looks satisfied. ‘Neither do I.’

  I check the time.

  ‘It’s only for tonight,’ I remind her, darting a quick kiss to Mum’s cheek, and edge out of the room. ‘Ruby?’

  Ruby follows me out to the front door.

  ‘You’ve got my mobile number,’ I say hurriedly, grabbing my jacket and handbag. ‘I’ve pinned an information sheet to the kitchen board – dietary needs, meds, and her doctor’s number. Though just call me if there are any problems.’

  ‘You leave everything to me, love,’ Ruby says calmly, and nods me off. ‘You’ll see, your mum and I will be the best of friends by the time you get back home.’

  *

  Dinner out with Logan is a marvellous experience. I’ve never been to the side street French bistro he’s chosen, but it seems popular and is bustling with diners. There’s low French music playing out of hidden wall speakers, and each table is set into a discrete high-sided booth with an engraved glass panel that prevents others from hearing our conversation, which is rather cosy. We order hors d’oeuvres and a main meal each, and sit opposite each other on softly padded benches, talking throughout the meal about… well, about everything under the sun.

  Logan is an excellent conversationalist, I soon discover; steady in his opinions but perfectly calm when I disagree with him, and we move rapidly through politics, both local and global, to environmental issues, traffic concerns around Guildford and into London, and finally health, which leads us into less certain territory.

  After our light hors d’oeuvres, our main meals arrive. Logan is an unashamed carnivore, happily devouring a fillet steak with fried mushrooms and a jacket potato. I also enjoy eating meat but like fish too, so tuck into trout with almonds, served with sautéed potatoes. It’s absolutely delicious and a real treat, for my mother has never been keen on fish, so we rarely eat it these days.

  Eventually, he asks about my family.

  I talk about my father and brother, and how they died in an avalanche, and he nods with sympathy yet shows little surprise.

  No doubt he heard all about it when the accident first occurred. My father was so well respected, the local papers covered the tragedy in horrific detail, meaning I had to walk past newsstands with my face averted for some weeks, just in case I saw something to set me off crying again…

  When the topic of my mother’s dementia comes up at last, I decide not to shy away from it as I ordinarily would. It’s probably an illusion, given how little I know the man, but I feel as though I can trust Logan with anything. He just has one of those faces…

  ‘But you’ve chosen to look after her at home,’ he comments after listening to me explain her diagnosis and how rapidly the dementia is advancing now. ‘That’s brave.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  His dark eyes survey me thoughtfully. ‘Forgive me, I had an opportunity to speak to your mother while you were busy. She seemed confused. Not always aware of her surroundings, and probably unable to look after herself in any meaningful way.’

  ‘That sounds about right,’ I mutter.

  ‘I imagine her care must be quite complex and demanding, to say the least.’ Logan hesitates, then adds gently, ‘Many people in your situation would have arranged for her to move into a residential home by now. To lighten the burden of care.’

  ‘You think I should put my mother in a home?’ I shake my head, giving a brittle laugh. ‘Not likely!’

  ‘As I said, that’s very brave of you. It can’t be easy.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ I admit, feeling awkward at the way this conversation has swung so quickly towards a topic I hate even thinking about. ‘But Mum wouldn’t be happy living anywhere else. We discussed it in the past. Before she got quite so… confused, as you put it. And she made it perfectly plain that she intended to stay at home for as long as possible.’

  ‘Sounds like your mother’s a forthright lady.’

  ‘Oh God, you don’t know the half of it.’ I check the time on my phone and note there are no messages. ‘I hope Ruby’s getting on okay with her. Mum can be difficult. Especially with new people.’

  I’m aware of a feeling of unease at leaving Mum with a stranger. But she seemed to click with Ruby straightaway, s
o I’m probably being foolish. Besides, Ruby looked to be a confident sort who wouldn’t be bothered by any of the games Mum likes to play when she’s in one of her tricky moods.

  ‘I’m sure Ruby will be fine. I only met her for a couple of minutes, but she struck me as an extremely competent sort of woman.’

  Logan nods to a waiter, who comes swiftly over in response. Logan has such an air of authority about him, I think, secretly reminded of my father. Dad too only ever had to raise an eyebrow to have people scurrying to do his bidding.

  ‘Would you like a dessert?’ Logan asks me, leaning back to allow the waiter to remove his plate. ‘Or maybe some coffee?’

  I shake my head reluctantly. I would like to linger over coffee, talking more, getting to know this man. But I’m also painfully aware of how long we’ve been out.

  ‘I should get back. Check on Mum.’

  ‘Of course.’ To my relief, he doesn’t look annoyed or attempt to persuade me to stay. Instead, he asks the waiter for the bill, then smiles at me reassuringly. ‘I’ve really enjoyed myself this evening. Perhaps we could do this again sometime? There’s a new Chinese place I haven’t tried yet.’

  ‘I love Chinese food.’

  But when I get out my purse, he frowns and says, ‘No, I invited you to dinner. I should be the one to pay.’

  ‘There’s really no need. Let’s split it.’

  Logan hesitates, then shrugs. ‘If you insist. But let me take care of the tip, at least.’

  I agree to this since there’s no point putting his back up. And it is rather lovely to have dinner with someone so very courteous, even to the point of being a little old-fashioned. It’s been a long time since anybody treated me in such a caring way…

  *

  Back home, I find the house in semi-darkness. Logan escorts me to the front door but insists on waiting outside while I pop in to check on Mum.

  ‘Just in case you need me,’ he says enigmatically.

  Everything inside is still and quiet.

  As I’m taking off my jacket, Ruby tiptoes out of the living room, smiling but with a finger on her lips.