Bring Me Back: The gripping Sunday Times bestseller now with an explosive new ending!

It was a long two days. I went for walks along the beach and in between, I tried to be the perfect boyfriend and painted the bathroom as a surprise for you. By the time Sunday evening came, I couldn’t wait for you to be back and I planned to take you straight to bed and stay there the whole of the next day. But when I met you at the station, you were so quiet, and my heart almost stopped, because I thought you were going to tell me that you wanted to go back to your old life in London. Instead, you clung to me and told me that you loved me, that you always wanted to be with me, and stay in our cottage forever. And realising how much you’d missed me, my heartbeat smoothed out, and I was glad I’d let you go.

The following week we left for Megève but once there, your mood didn’t improve. You had never skied before so I’d booked lessons for you each morning, convinced that a spirit like yours would love the mountains. But your heart wasn’t in it and I couldn’t hide my disappointment, or my fear, because it seemed that everything I said or did wasn’t right any more. I asked you if you were homesick or if you were missing Ellen and you dissolved into floods of tears and wouldn’t let me comfort you. There was a nervousness about you and I began to worry that I’d got it wrong, that you wanted to go back to London after all, and were psyching yourself up to tell me.

On the way home, we stopped off in Paris for dinner and as we walked along the Seine, back to where I parked the car, I drew you into my arms and told you how much I loved you. A part of me wished I’d brought the ring with me, a ring I’d planned to give you on your birthday because I could have proposed to you there and then instead of waiting. But my love seemed to make you uncomfortable, and my doubt grew.

As soon as we got back in the car, you started crying but when I asked you what the matter was, you wouldn’t tell me. In the end, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pulled off the motorway into a picnic area and told you that we weren’t leaving until you told me what was wrong, that I couldn’t fix it if you didn’t talk.

Nothing had prepared me for what you said next. You didn’t tell me that you wanted to leave me and go back to London. Instead, you told me that during your weekend in London, you’d slept with somebody else.

FIFTEEN (#ulink_58e117a9-760c-5e49-b928-6814cd304555)

Now

When we get back from the pub, we go our separate ways, Ellen to her office, me to mine. I sit down at my desk and take the two Russian dolls – the one I found on the wall and the one from the car – from where I’ve hidden them at the back of my drawer and stand them on the edge of my desk. Then I take the one I found on the plate in The Jackdaw out of my pocket and put it next to them. Triplets. What is your purpose, I ask them silently, why are you here? What the hell is going on?

I’m still not convinced it isn’t Ruby. The email address is pretty incriminating. I should have mentioned it to her, told her I’d worked it out. Because I didn’t mention it, she probably feels safe continuing her charade.

I put the doll I found at The Jackdaw back in my pocket and push the others into the drawer. Then I log on to my emails – and find another one from Rudolph Hill. I look at the time it was sent and see that it was at about the time Ellen and I left for the pub, six minutes after the previous one asking: Who is Ruby?

I open it.

I don’t know who Ruby is

But I am not her

She has to be joking. I reach for the keyboard.

So who are you then?

A reply comes straight back.

What if I were to tell you that Layla is alive?

My heart thumps, then I pull myself together. It has to be some other sick bastard, Ruby could never be this vicious.

Then I’d call you a liar, I type furiously.

You don’t believe me?

No. I press send and when there’s no reply, I begin to relax. And then a message comes in.

You should

I want to stop but I can’t.

Where is she then?

A reply comes back

Right here

A wave of emotion slams my body. I push away from the desk and get to my feet, wanting to run, to get out into the fresh air while I can still breathe. But then, my mind in turmoil, I sit back down again, knocking a cup of cold coffee over. It smashes on the stone floor, spraying liquid everywhere. And into the mess that I’ve become, Ellen walks in, her mobile in her hand.

‘Finn,’ she begins. ‘Harry wants to talk to you.’ She catches sight of the smashed cup, then my face. ‘Harry,’ she says into the phone. ‘Finn will call you back.’

I lean into my desk, my head in my hands, trying to pull myself together. Ellen’s arm comes around my shoulder.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asks urgently, crouching beside me, trying to see my face. ‘Are you OK?’

It’s a hoax, I remind myself. It’s only a hoax. ‘I’m fine,’ I say roughly.

She worms her hand through mine, trying to reach my forehead, and realising that she thinks I’m ill, I seize on it.

‘I think it must be something I ate,’ I say, groaning a little. ‘Maybe one of those prawns was off.’

‘Why don’t you lie down for a while?’

‘Yes, good idea.’ I get up from my desk, glad to be alone, then realise that I’m not going to be able to lie down because I’m too agitated. ‘Actually, I think I’ll go down to the river, get some fresh air.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, it’s fine. You’ve got work to do.’

‘I can take half an hour,’ she protests.

‘Really, it’s fine.’ I can see the puzzlement in her eyes and plant a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Alright. By the way, Harry isn’t coming this weekend, something to do with some sort of client crisis. He did explain and I listened long and hard but I didn’t fully understand, which is why I wanted to pass him to you.’

‘OK,’ I say. But my mind is full of Layla, not Harry. ‘I’ll phone him when I get back.’

We walk across the garden and as I take the path round to the front of the house, I feel her eyes on me. I know she must be wondering, wondering what the thump on the bar was really about, wondering what my obvious agitation is really about. She’s not stupid. Nobody who feels ill would stray very far from home, and here I am, heading to the river. Except I’m not heading to the river, I’m heading back to the pub to see Ruby.

She doesn’t seem surprised to see me ducking under the doorway. It’s quieter now, a couple of regulars at the bar and a few others grouped around tables close by.

‘Can we talk?’ I ask.

She heads to a table at the far end of the pub where we won’t be disturbed and as I walk behind her, raised eyebrows and elbow nudges follow me down the room. All the locals know that Ruby and I were in a relationship and many thought we would be together long-term. Until I turned up with Ellen.

‘You forgot to pay, by the way,’ she says, sitting down. I reach for my wallet and she puts a hand on my arm. ‘I’m joking. It’s on the house. An early wedding present.’ She looks up at me. ‘So what was all that about earlier on?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, because there are still red marks on her wrists. ‘I thought—’

‘What?’

I sit down opposite her. ‘Ruby, please, tell me honestly – have you been sending me emails, pretending to be someone else?’

She shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says emphatically. ‘Of course I haven’t. Why would I do that?’