Pretty Little Things: 2018’s most nail-biting serial killer thriller with an unbelievable twist

I don’t really hear him. ‘ . . . Only, I wanted to talk to you about Elle’s party,’ I say, eyes flicking to look at Savannah.

His face is blank.

‘Will you be back in time for dinner?’

I’m hoping he’ll say yes, because it’d be good to spend time as a family, today more than ever. I miss time spent chatting about our respective days around the table together. Something we haven’t done much since the accident. Plus, I’ll need his support when I mention to Elle that we should postpone her party like Savannah suggested.

Iain looks at Savannah, then to me. ‘I’ll heat dinner up in the microwave later.’

He comes closer, bends to kiss me. His lips linger on my cheek. When he pulls away I see from the corner of my eye that he looks to Savannah, who offers him a weak smile.

Iain says nothing and heads to the garage through the internal door from the utility room.

Savannah waits until we hear the door to the garage open and the sound of the van starting before she speaks. ‘That was—’

‘Tense?’ I say, cutting in. ‘Uncomfortable? A picture of how not to do marriage?’ I sigh. ‘All of the above?’

I sip my own coffee. It’s gone cold but I swallow it down anyway, waiting for her to say something.

She clears her throat and I know she’s trying to be tactful.

‘How are you guys? I mean really?’

I search her eyes and wonder how much she knows. Iain has confided in Savannah before. He thinks I don’t know, but I do. I’m not blind. I confide in her too, but not about everything. Some things she just wouldn’t understand.

‘I daren’t tell him I forgot to do some simple things last week.’

Savannah frowns. ‘Why?’

I hesitate. I lower my voice when I say, ‘He’d say I’m rushing to get back to normal. He’d say I’m not ready to do things by myself.’ I shrug. ‘He’s never really here, always working, and I need to be independent, get my life back on track.’

‘He’d understand how you’re feeling. You need to talk more. Be open and he’ll be more receptive, I know it.’

I try to muster a genuine smile but it’s hard.

Savannah’s grown closer to Iain and Elle in the last six months and a part of me really doesn’t know how I should feel about that. Sometimes it makes me feel inadequate.

I look at her now, as she talks to me, but I let her words wash over me.

Savannah’s the opposite to me in terms of looks. Her white-blonde hair to my dark locks. Her hazel-coloured eyes to my ice-blue. Her well-toned, slender limbs to my . . . well, more fleshed-out physique. But we matched perfectly in terms of personality.

Up until the accident, at least.

Something changed in Savannah after that day. Whether she just didn’t know what to say to make things right, I don’t know, but it hurt.

A lot.

Still does.

When I was in hospital, she wasn’t really there. I kept telling myself it was because she was so busy, but I’ve got better, healed over the last six months, and I guess we’re trying to bring our friendship back to where it was before.

‘It’ll be OK, chick,’ she’s saying to me as I drag my thoughts back to the present. ‘Iain must find it hard, though. Elle too.’

I have no choice but to nod, because I haven’t really been listening to what she’s just said before that sentence.

She looks at her watch. ‘I should be going, or I’ll be late.’ She drains the last of her coffee. ‘What’s your plan for the day, other than work?’ She gets up from her chair and straightens out her uniform.

‘Work shortly, then nothing. I need a rest if I’m honest. I feel like I need to get away from all the paperwork for the trial, all the same endless questions about that day.’

She doesn’t speak. She avoids looking me in the eye.

She picks up her phone and glances at it.

‘John came to see me yesterday,’ she says. Now she looks at me, gauging my reaction.

I swallow, throat feeling sore.

‘What did he want?’

‘He said he couldn’t get in touch with you. He thinks you’re avoiding him.’

I remember what it was like to work alongside John. He was, is, a very astute man. Some find him a little intense but he just cares very much about his friends.

‘Have you seen much of him?’ Savannah asks.

I shake my head. ‘Iain wouldn’t like it.’

She nods, like she understands, but she doesn’t, not really.

‘We have been talking on the phone.’

Savannah’s eyes flick to mine, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘And Iain doesn’t know?’

‘You can’t mention this to him or Elle,’ I say. She opens her mouth in protest. ‘It’s just until Paul Selby’s trial.’

She shakes her head, places her hand on my arm, gives it a squeeze. ‘I won’t say anything, but Charlotte . . .’ She trails off, lets her hand fall. ‘Nothing.’ She smiles.

We hear stirrings above. Elle’s emerging from her bedroom. We hear the thump of her feet on the stairs.

Savannah pulls her coat on as Elle comes into the kitchen.

‘Has Mum asked you about the swimming gala?’ Elle says, as she grabs a Coke from the fridge.

Savannah looks at me, then back to Elle. ‘No . . . That’s next Saturday, isn’t it?’

Elle swims for her school and she’s been chosen to compete in a gala, against schools from the county. It’ll be a big deal for me to go watch her.

I have a fear of water. I hate to be around it, but, for Elle, I’ve always tried to keep my fear at bay as much as possible, just so I don’t miss out on something that’s important to her. I had hoped I’d have Iain by my side, just us, as a proper family unit at the gala.