Cover

Dedication

For Leela

PROLOGUE

Abby

July

The pounding on the door forces her up. She’s still half asleep, her senses blunt, maybe she’s imagined it?

No, there it is again. And someone banging on your door at three a.m. is never a good thing.

Beside her, Rob remains asleep, in spite of the racket going on outside. He wasn’t joking all those times he’s claimed he’d be able to sleep through a hurricane.

Although Abby isn’t scared – surely nobody wishing to do them harm would draw attention to themselves in this way – her stomach twists into a tight knot.

Rushing to the window, she peers through the blinds, although from upstairs it’s impossible to see who is standing on the doorstep. Sienna’s car is parked haphazardly across the drive. It almost looks as if it would have taken more effort to get it at that angle than if she’d kept it straight. No need to wake Rob, then. Sienna has come for her.

With the hallway bathed in darkness, she almost loses her footing on the stairs in her effort to get to the door before the hammering begins again. Everything about this is wrong; Sienna isn’t the kind of person who asks for help with anything, and she isn’t the kind of person who ever needs help with anything. Abby knows without a doubt that this is something to do with her. There will be no more hiding.

Shock numbs her when she flings open the door and takes in the state of Sienna: smeared make-up under her eyes, damp hair plastered to her flushed cheeks. Despite the rain, she’s wearing only a pyjama shorts set under a long, thin cardigan, slippers on her feet, which are already soaked through. Abby manages to take in all these details, despite the rapidly spreading apprehension she feels.

Outside, rain hammers against the ground, an almost soothing distraction, the weather matching the situation as though they are characters in a literary novel.

Tick, tick, tick. Seconds pass before Sienna opens her mouth to speak, even though it’s clear she is desperate to spill what she’s come here to say. Then her words finally come.

‘Where is he?’

‘I don’t… Sienna, what’s going on? Come inside. You’re getting soaked.’ Abby beckons her in.

‘No, I won’t set foot in your house.’ Sienna’s eyes become slits. ‘Just tell me where he is.’

‘Greg? Are you talking about Greg?’ Of course Abby knows that she is.

‘Where is he?’ Sienna repeats, spitting her words at Abby.

‘I don’t know where Greg is. Why would I? Look, just tell me what’s happened.’ Again, Abby attempts to coax her inside.

The shake of Sienna’s head is so violent that droplets of water fly from her hair, like a dog shaking itself after a bath. ‘Don’t!’ she screams. ‘Don’t you do that. Haven’t you already lied enough?’

‘Sienna, you’re not making any sense. Please, just come inside and tell me what’s going on.’ It’s worth trying to calm her down, even though Abby knows that this is the end of them, the end of everything. There is no way back.

Rob appears at Abby’s side – she hasn’t heard him come down – and places his hand on her shoulder as he squints into the night. ‘Sienna? What’s going on?’

She turns to him, and her ghost-like face softens a tiny fraction. Of course, it isn’t Rob her venom is aimed at.

‘Ask your wife,’ she says. ‘She knows exactly what’s going on. And soon the police will too.’

And then she’s gone, leaving the screech of her car tyres burning in Abby’s ears.

PART ONE

ONE

Abby

Late April

‘Are you happy here?’ Rob asks, handing her a glass of Prosecco.

They’ve been living in their house in Winchmore Hill for three weeks and four days now, and this is the first time he’s asked Abby anything like this. She takes her glass and places it on the carpet beside her. It’s an accident waiting to happen, but she keeps it there anyway. They’re sitting on the floor – the new sofa hasn’t yet arrived, and they sold the old one on eBay before leaving Ipswich. A tatty old thing, faded, colourless, yet now Abby misses it. It had been Rob’s when he’d lived with his old flatmate, and it reminds her of when they’d first met. What different people they were then, even though only a short time has passed between then and now.

‘Of course I’m happy,’ she says. ‘How could I not be? This is the dream, isn’t it? A four-bed house in London.’ She gestures around, still not quite able to believe they own this place. Do her words sound as hollow as they feel? She hopes not. She’s determined not to ruin this for Rob – he’s worked so hard for promotion at his law firm, and neither of them could have known it would entail a huge move to a city she’s only ever been to once, and that was as a child. They are closer to Rob’s parents in Reading now, though, and for him that is another bonus.

There is no way she can tell Rob about the crushing loneliness, how it has her in a vice grip from morning until night.

Rob leans across and kisses the top of her head. ‘I know you’re finding it hard not having a job here yet. A school will snap you up in no time, though.’

His smile demonstrates that he really believes this, and she wants to have his faith, but every day she checks online, her positivity evaporates when she finds no vacancies within commuting distance for a primary school deputy head. The summer term is nearly over, most of the positions for September having already been filled, and long, empty weeks loom before her. Abby doesn’t point out to Rob that it might be a whole year before a suitable position comes up. The truth is, her only option might be to take a step down and apply for a class teacher role instead, meaning all the work she’s put into her role at Box Hill School will be wasted.

Abby will never express her fears aloud to Rob. He is living his dream, and she will just have to put her own on hold for a while. Isn’t that what marriage is about? Sacrifices. Give and take. And all the other things people don’t talk about.

‘You’re right,’ she says to Rob. ‘I’ll find something soon. I’ll just have to make the most of this free time and get this house sorted.’ The thought fills her with anxiety. This is not what she wants to be doing: she should be planning for the autumn term.

They are eating Thai food – the usual Friday takeaway that has become a routine since moving house – and Rob offers her the last spring roll. ‘You’ve done loads here already,’ he says. And it’s true: Abby has painted every room and scrubbed every surface, eradicating all visible traces of the previous owners, but there is still plenty more to do. ‘You can’t do everything, Abby. I’ll get some free time soon so I can get stuck in too. It’s just a bit crazy at the moment while I’m finding my feet at the office. I’ll get used to this city life eventually, though.’

She has no doubt that he will; Rob seems able to adapt to pretty much anything, and his living in London as a student means this isn’t completely unfamiliar territory. Still, the late nights are taking their toll. On both of them.

‘Don’t worry about the house. I’ll get it sorted,’ Abby says. ‘You do whatever you have to do.’ She smiles. ‘Remember?’

Rob chuckles. Five years ago, at the beginning of their relationship, the two of them made a pact that neither would hold the other back from achieving their career goals. They would support and understand each other’s drive and determination, even though they are in different professions. Abby had only just turned thirty then and Rob had been a year older, so it was easy to focus on just their work and each other. It never crossed her mind to wonder whether this would ever change.

‘I’m sorry it’s all a bit one-sided at the moment.’ Rob reaches for her hand. ‘We moved here for my job – at the expense of yours – and I—’

‘Nothing in the pact said it would be equal at all times. So stop worrying. Let me get this house sorted because when I’m back, working all hours in a school, I won’t even have time to make beans on toast for dinner. And as for laundry and cleaning – well, forget it!’

Rob laughs. She’s glad she’s eased his worry. He already carries enough guilt about this move to London, and she hates seeing him worry about her. He’s already done enough of that, looking after her when her mum died two years ago. Never again will Abby let him carry a burden for her.

Later that night, while Rob sleeps, his laptop still open on the bed, she walks through the house in darkness, the torch on her phone guiding her way. It feels like wandering around a stranger’s house. She never tells Rob that her heart is still in their two-bed rented flat in Ipswich. They could have bought somewhere years ago, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it, even though it meant throwing money away on rent.

She needs to get a grip. This will be a beautiful home once they’ve finished doing it up, and she’ll be back working in the job she loves soon enough. But no matter how much she tries to force it, she can’t escape the feeling that she’s left so much more behind than just memories of her mum.

Abby doesn’t know it, but she’s less than twenty-four hours away from meeting Sienna Wells. Her life is going to change beyond recognition, making her wish all she has to worry about is adjusting to their new life.

Sienna Wells.

Abby will come to wish she’d never laid eyes on you.

TWO

Sienna

There are two sides to every story, aren’t there? But not this one. This one has far more. For Sienna, everything starts and ends with Abby. There is nothing unusual about how their paths cross – not really. A chance meeting, much like any other, no different from the way anyone enters another person’s life. There is nothing sinister or premeditated about any of it, even Abby will have to admit that much. Random. Somehow, that makes what happens even worse.

‘Are you feeling okay?’ Greg asks in the morning. ‘You seem a bit… I don’t know… not yourself.’

He doesn’t look at Sienna as he speaks, and she wishes that he would, that there is something behind his words, something to show her that he means it, that he can actually see her. Instead, he is preoccupied with his phone, and swipes and jabs at the screen, a thin smile on his face, as he sips his usual strong black coffee. It’s hard to tell what he’s looking at, but Sienna’s convinced it isn’t the news or anything work-related.

As usual, Greg looks immaculate this morning: a crisp white shirt and navy tie, his trousers neatly ironed with a sharp crease. It’s the same every morning when he goes to work – he has to look the part, inspire confidence in the patients he’ll be seeing. They literally have their lives in his hands; she wonders how it’s never occurred to her that he might actually enjoy playing God.

‘I’m going to do it,’ she says, pushing aside her plate. Although Greg is definitely not a breakfast person, she can’t function without it, and this morning she’s already found room for scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast and a baby avocado.

‘Where do you put all that?’ Greg asks, his eyes still fixed on his phone. At least his question demonstrates that he’s somehow been paying attention, in his Greg way.

‘I must burn it off with nervous energy or something,’ she replies, even though she has no idea what that means, or if it really is a thing. ‘Did you hear me? I said I’m going to do it.’

‘Do what?’

Of course Greg will have no idea what she’s talking about. He struggles to see her as anything other than a medical secretary, because that’s what she’d been when he’d met her. And that’s who she’d been the first time he leaned across the sofa they were sitting on and kissed her, taking her by surprise. She hadn’t known at the time whether she’d wanted him to or not, but it had felt right, so she’d gone with it and never looked back. Some things do change, though, and that job title no longer fits her, or she no longer fits it. Either way, Sienna is determined to do something about the crossroads she’s reached.

‘I think this redundancy happened for a reason, to force me to make a change. A big change,’ she explains to Greg.

She waits for him to challenge her statement and, sure enough, it doesn’t take long.

‘But you’ll find something else – you’re damn good at your job and you interview well. And there’s no rush, is there? You can take your time and make sure you find the right place.’ He’s talking to her as though he’s a teacher and she’s the student. This doesn’t sit well with her and fuels her determination. She is his equal: their jobs shouldn’t define anything in their relationship.

She rests her elbows on the table. ‘If I don’t do it now, I never will. I’m thirty-eight, Greg. And what have I got to show for my thirties?’

He looks straight at her then, his eyes widening. This must be obscure to him; she’s not usually one for complaining. She just gets on with things. ‘You’ve got all this,’ he says, looking around the kitchen. ‘You practically designed this whole house. I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with it.’ He smiles, no doubt hoping this is enough to appease her.

However, Sienna’s on a roll now, there’s no way she’s giving in. ‘And that’s exactly when I realised what I want to do with the rest of my life.’ She’s read all about how most businesses fail within their first year, but it hasn’t put her off. She’s determined to start her own interior design company, never mind the statistics. She explains this to Greg, seconds ticking by while she once again anticipates his response. What she wants is for him to probe her more, to ask her if she’s done her research, if she’s thought everything through in detail. Surely, at least he will ask how she’ll go about it when she has no business experience.

Instead, with his eyes fixed on his phone, he says, ‘Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Anyway, remember we’ve got that dinner tonight? Seven o’clock.’

The dinner. Greg’s work colleagues and their partners, none of whom ever want to give Sienna the time of day. It’s not Marty, Reuben or Harry who are the problem – it’s their wives. She can’t be sure but Sienna suspects that they look down on her. She’s not like them, not one of them, and certainly not good enough for Greg. Unlike Holly.

‘And you remembered that Jackson’s coming over after school?’ Greg continues. ‘Holly has that work meeting, but she’s promised she’ll be home by six, so I can get him back for then. I’ll make sure I leave work as early as I can; otherwise I’ll hardly see him.’

Jackson. Greg’s son. A thirteen-year-old boy who can barely find a word to say to Sienna, even though she had nothing to do with the break-up of his parents’ marriage. What irks her the most is that Holly was the one who left Greg, so it’s not as though Greg deserted them. When Sienna came along later, all she did was pick up the pieces, try to help Greg put himself back together again. There is no reason for Jackson to resent her.

‘He’s a hormonal teenager,’ Greg is always pointing out. Yet Jackson had only been nine when she’d met Greg – a long way from the teenage years. Greg never has an answer for this. She admires the way he jumps to his son’s defence though – that’s exactly how it should be.

‘He’s been having some trouble at school,’ Greg says, ‘fighting with some boys in his class who’ve been bullying him.’

‘Oh? You never mentioned that.’ This shouldn’t surprise Sienna. Greg rarely volunteers information about his son: she is always the one pushing him for details.

Greg frowns. ‘Didn’t I? I thought I had. Holly’s dealt with it all, though, so best not to bring it up unless Jackson mentions it. Anyway, I’ll be home before we have to leave for dinner,’ he says. ‘It might be a bit tight, though, so we’ll have to leave straight away.’

‘It will be fine,’ Sienna says, because that’s her nature – always trying to focus on the positive.

It’s nearly half past five and Jackson sits on the sofa, hunched over his iPad, flicking his long fringe from his eyes. Sienna has no idea what he’s doing on it and contemplates checking to make sure whatever he’s looking at is suitable, but from the little she knows of Holly, she’s confident parental controls will be in place.

She tries to hide from Jackson that she’s anxious, but it’s been boiling in her stomach since Greg called five minutes ago. He’ll be late, he’s stuck in horrendous commuter traffic, so he’s had to ask Holly to pick up Jackson instead. It’s Sienna’s instant reaction to offer to make her own way to the restaurant, so that at least one of them is there on time.

She does this even though she’s dreading the dinner as it is, let alone having to walk into that place without Greg, to face the questioning glances of the other wives. She tells herself she can do it, that she’s managed many times before so it’s no problem to do it again. After all, wasn’t she adept at putting on a show, a pretence that everything was perfect? Greg isn’t running late on purpose – it can’t be helped. He’d been about to leave when he’d had to take over a colleague’s operation – an emergency hysterectomy. The surgeon’s wife had collapsed at home and was rushed to a hospital near their home in Surrey. Being married to a consultant gynaecologist, Sienna is used to Greg being on call, having to deal with emergencies that keep him away from home, but lately, more often than not, he seems to take every opportunity to stay away as late as possible.

This isn’t one of those times, she convinces herself as she sits in silence with Jackson; Greg has been looking forward to this dinner. He always does.

Yet it’s impossible for doubts not to creep in. Sienna might try her best to focus on the positive, but her mind wrestles with itself. Are Greg’s late nights only because he cares about his patients? Yes, he is passionate about his job, there is no disputing that, but is this all too convenient? She tries to recall if it had been any different when he’d been married to Holly, and Sienna had been a secretary to another doctor at his hospital. It is easy to misremember things given the passage of time, so she can’t be sure. She’d hardly known him then. And when she had become part of his life, all she learned was what he’d let her see from a distance.

‘Why isn’t Dad back yet?’ Jackson asks again, staring at his iPad rather than looking at her. Like father like son. Sienna has already explained the situation to him, yet every few minutes he repeats his question.

She expels a deep breath. ‘Like I said, Jackson, he’s at work. Operating. But your mum’s picking you up instead, and you’ll see your dad again soon. I’m sorry you missed him this time. I know he’s really disappointed not to have seen you.’ She stops talking, not even sure Jackson’s listening.

The silence in the room is excruciating. ‘How’s school?’ she asks to fill the void. Yet as soon as she says it, she’s aware that if he’s being bullied and getting into fights, then this is the last thing he will want to discuss. Still, it is an opening for him to talk to her about it if he wants to, although she doubts this will be the case.

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