Don’t Turn Around: A heart-stopping gripping domestic suspense

The Whitespace project is a major inner city redevelopment and one of the biggest schemes we’ve ever worked on. ‘I saw the emails this morning,’ I tell him. ‘Oh God, that reminds me, there was one from Selina asking if we’d sponsor a whole table for her fundraiser.’

‘Yeah, I had that one too.’

Selina Raymond is a force to be reckoned with despite her advancing years. Our paths had crossed a few years ago after her lodger had moved out of her large Victorian house and she decided to convert her home into a refuge. She had heard about the helpline, which was going strong back then, and when she discovered it had been set up by two architects, it didn’t take long for her to convince Geoff and me to design the refuge at cost, and now she’s looking to expand.

‘She’s going to struggle for the extra funding this year,’ I continue.

‘As are we all,’ Geoff replies, swirling the dregs in his glass as he speaks.

The black hole in the foundation’s budget is another argument Geoff has used for closing the helpline. In the early years, when Meg’s loss was raw, it had been relatively easy to pull on our clients’ heartstrings, but donations have dried up of late. I’m hoping our recent publicity will make all the difference.

‘Things will get better,’ I promise.

‘They already have for Selina,’ he replies brightly. ‘I made some phone calls and our clients didn’t need much persuading. They’re aware of how much these projects mean to us and our Whitespace partners have been particularly generous. I’ve already confirmed our table.’

‘You’ve done what?’

‘I thought you’d be pleased, my love. Surely we owe her after all the times she’s offered refuge to our callers.’

‘I’m not disputing it’s a good cause, but if we’re asking for donations, it should be for the foundation.’

‘And that can still happen, but for now, I’d rather see the money being put to better use.’

‘Better use?’ I ask as Geoff drains his glass. ‘What we do should take priority. Or –’ my eyes narrow, ‘– have you already made up your mind that the relaunch is going to fail? Is that what you want?’

‘I want what you want, my love,’ he says, looking hurt by the suggestion. ‘Haven’t I always supported you? The helpline is Megan’s legacy, I know that, but one TV interview isn’t going to be enough to turn around our fortunes, no matter how controversial you tried to make it.’

My jaw twitches. ‘Lewis deserves to be named, and I hope someone has told him what I said. I hope he looks it up online.’

Geoff puts his tumbler down with a loud crack. ‘So he can see the videos of Megan?’ he asks, his face twisting. ‘That’s precisely why I didn’t want you sharing her with the world, Ruth. She’s my daughter and I don’t want him looking at her.’

His eyes are glistening but Geoff won’t cry. He never has, and as much as I appreciate the times he’s needed to be strong for both of us, right now it would be nice to know that the pain that never leaves me has stayed with him too.

‘Sorry,’ I try but Geoff shakes his head.

‘What’s done is done,’ he says. ‘But I do think you need to look at our situation objectively. It’s going to take more than the cost of a table at Selina’s fundraiser to keep the foundation afloat and, as a trustee, I believe a managed closure should remain on the table.’ Geoff gives me an imploring look he hopes will sway me. ‘Come on, my love. How old do the twins have to be before we’ve missed out on them growing up? I’m sixty, and you’re not that far behind. We should sell the business, move closer to Sean. This is the point in our lives when we should be winding down.’

And there it is, the plan he’s been alluding to ever since he first raised the possibility of closing the helpline. I knew it was coming and that’s why I didn’t only fight harder with the relaunch, I fought dirty. Meg’s foundation has never been as important to Geoff as it is to me. It was just another of my plans that he simply went along with while I worked tirelessly to rebuild our lives in a way that kept our daughter at the centre of us all. Now is not the time for objectivity. I can’t let go of her, not even for my two-year-old granddaughters.

My expression alone tells Geoff what I think of his idea, and when he turns away, his hand reaches instinctively for the bottle of whiskey.

‘Geoff, you’d hate giving up work …’ I start but my words trail off as I hear Helena making her way downstairs. I feel an ache in my heart, quickly followed by a flutter of nerves. ‘Can we talk later? I need to get this over and done with first.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he says as he refills his glass. Taking his drink with him, he heads to the door but looks back. ‘I know walking away isn’t something you want to consider, but retirement could give us fresh challenges. Is it such a terrible idea?’ Before I can answer, he shakes his head in defeat. ‘I know, my timing’s awful – the helpline – the relaunch. I should have worked out by now that you’re hard to stop once you’ve set your mind on something.’

‘Impossible is the word I’d use,’ I say with a wan smile.

‘Yes, I would too,’ he replies before leaving the kitchen and closing the door behind him so I don’t have to listen to the awkward conversation he’s about to have.

4 (#u83005bf5-6f3b-5604-af07-afed4b746c48)

Ruth

After reliving the worst week of our lives, the world has tilted back on its axis and it’s time to begin a new year without Meg. The flowers have been placed on her grave, the candles lit in the church and when I awoke this morning, the feeling of dread that had plagued me for weeks had lifted. As I’d put on my linen suit and picked up my briefcase, I was ready to rejoin civilisation and tackle any problems life could throw at me because almost everything has a solution – only death takes away our options. Which makes me wonder how I should respond to this latest dilemma.

I prod the envelope Geoff had dropped back onto my desk after reading the contents. The cream paper is good quality, as you would expect from a solicitor’s office, but if it’s meant to intimidate, it doesn’t. It’s no more than paper and ink, I tell myself as I wait for Jen to step into the office.

‘Geoff said you wanted a word?’

‘You’d better sit down.’

Jen keeps her back straight as she slides into the visitor’s chair. She plays with her fringe which isn’t long enough to hide the furrows on her brow that deepen as her eyes dart from the envelope caught beneath my red lacquered fingernail, across my pristine silk blouse and up to my face. I try to give her a look of reassurance but I can’t quite pull it off.

‘Geoff looks awful,’ she says. ‘Is he OK?’

‘He’s gone in search of some paracetamol.’

Jen makes a move to stand. ‘I have some in my desk. Do you want me to get them?’

‘No, he needs some fresh air anyway. I’d told him not to come into work today but he has to learn his lesson. He can’t drink his way through an entire weekend without facing the consequences. That’s not why I asked you in.’ I pick up the envelope stamped with a large red confidential mark, and prise out a single sheet of paper between a finger and thumb. ‘This is why you’re here.’

I let Jen take the letter but I don’t give her time to read it. ‘It’s some trumped-up solicitor’s clerk representing a certain Lewis Steven Rimmer,’ I tell her, tasting bile as I speak his name. ‘I’ve checked out the firm and they deal mostly with conveyancing so I don’t think we have much to worry about. I presume it’s a friend of Lewis trying to scare us. He’s asking us to cease and desist disparaging his client or they’ll take us to court.’

The letter trembles in Jen’s hand as she scans the contents. ‘He wouldn’t dare.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t,’ I tell her, my voice strong. Lewis Rimmer has taken all he’s going to from my family, and I won’t as much as flinch from this latest attack. ‘To make a case, he would first need to crawl from beneath whatever rock he’s hiding under and admit that he recognised himself in the person I described in the interview.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Carry on with more of the same,’ I say simply. The corners of my lips pull into a smile. ‘I like that we’ve made him uncomfortable. Don’t you?’

‘Of course, but he’s not going to stop at a solicitor’s letter if you upset him again,’ she replies as the letter slips from her grasp. We watch it float onto the desk and Jen gulps down her next breath. ‘Look, Ruth—’

‘This doesn’t change a thing, Jen,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve worked so hard on the relaunch and we’ve got people’s attention again. I don’t care that Lewis is one of them. This letter is another of his games, just like Meg’s note. He could have destroyed all of it but he left enough to make us question ourselves. He could have gone anywhere to escape the backlash but he went to Newcastle, deliberately choosing the university Meg had planned to go to escape him. After messing with her mind, he thought he could mess with ours too.’

Jen chews her lip. ‘Do you think it’s possible he’s changed? Charlie thinks there’s a chance and maybe this letter is Lewis’s way of saying if we leave him alone, he’ll leave us alone.’

‘It’s possible,’ I say, sounding no more convinced than Jen. ‘We both know there are some men who can learn to control their behaviour, but first they have to be willing to acknowledge the damage they’ve done. This isn’t a letter from someone who’s ready to confess his sins. Lewis is still pleading his innocence. He sees himself as the victim, not Meg. He hasn’t changed.’

‘What does Geoff think we should do?’

‘I don’t need to tell you that he hates Lewis as much as I do.’

‘But?’

Although the solicitor’s letter isn’t entirely unexpected, it’s visibly shaken Jen. I doubt she wants to hear what I have to say next, but it won’t come as any more of a surprise to her than it did to me. ‘Geoff mentioned retirement again at the weekend. He wants us to not only close the helpline but sell the business and move to Stratford so we can spend more time with Sean and the girls. It’s a happy picture he paints but I can’t do it.’

‘Is that why you went all out with the interview? You think this is our last chance to save the helpline?’