The figure outside watched intently as the woman turned to face the window, gripped the sill and then began rocking gently backwards and forwards. The man, standing immediately behind her, also moved rhythmically. He stared over her shoulder, out through the uncovered window, as though he was looking directly at the figure hiding below.

 

‘Watching me, watching you, watching me,’ the onlooker murmured, and then lowered the glasses and tucked them into a small pouch on their waistband.

Inside the bedroom, Abi was shouting wildly and loudly at Monty, urging him on. Monty did as he was told.

A little later, as they lay on the bed, Abi said: ‘That was an unexpected end to my trip to the market.’

 

Monty grinned at her. ‘Will you bother going again?’

‘I might. You never can tell what life has in store, can you?’ She moved away from him and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I must go - things to do and a deadline to meet in the morning.’

‘Deadline?’ Monty looked surprised. ‘I didn’t think you were a writer, a journalist?’

 

‘Nothing that romantic. Just an accountant. I thought I’d mentioned it before, that I do the books for a few people in Lower Winden, and in fact for a few in Upper Winden. I even have clients further afield now as well.’ She started pulling on her clothes. ‘That’s the power of computers and the internet, isn’t it? A global empire based in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. Even for an accountant, it’s an exciting opportunity.’ She turned to him. ‘I thought I told you what I do. It’s not full time yet, but I thought you knew.’ Monty looked blankly at her and she shrugged. ‘Oh well. Tomorrow’s deadline is for a client who’s selling up.’ She was now standing, looking down at him. ‘Let me know if you need any tax advice.’

 

‘I will.’ He lay with one arm folded behind his head. He gazed up at her curiously, surprised by her demanding, loud, and wild sexual behaviour. ‘Will I see you again soon?’

Abi bent down and kissed him lightly. ‘Oh, I can assure you of that.’

She didn’t notice the figure crouched in the trees, watching her leave the house. It was late afternoon and already nearly dark. But she noticed how much the temperature had fallen and hurried to the car.

 

Driving home along the quiet lane from Monty’s small holding towards the village, Abi reflected on the day. It was certainly one of the strangest days in her life. First a fire, then a burial pit, and then – out of the blue – the best sex for a long time. She smiled to herself. Actually, it was the only sex involving a second person for a long time.

 

As soon as she got home, she made a sandwich and poured a large glass of wine, then sat at her desk. Something was troubling her. What it was, she didn’t know, and it distracted her as she worked her way through the summary of her client’s accounts. A few minutes later, she typed “Montgomery Stewart” into the search engine. Within seconds, she was looking at a screen full of links, mostly references to the death of his wife, killed, as he’d explained, in a hit-and-run accident near their home. But what he hadn’t told her was that the police had interviewed him several times, and the inference was that not all had been as rosy at home with Maggie as he’d portrayed. There was also a lengthy interview with the stepdaughter, Laura.

 

Abi read the article twice. It was strange, she thought; Laura made no reference to the warm, close-knit, loving family that Monty described. In fact, she was totally dispassionate about Monty; totally matter of fact. Abi’s research discovered that while the police couldn’t discover the truth, the case seemed to remain open and unsolved. A local journalist had specifically asked a senior officer if the case was closed? No, said the police officer, we continue in our search for the vehicle that struck and tragically killed Maggie Stewart.

 

The next article Abi read revealed that Laura – who it appeared was a determined campaigner – believed there was fresh evidence and suggested the police had their suspicions about who the driver might be. Laura referred to the driver as the killer.

‘Fuck me,’ whispered Abi.

 

It is strange sometimes how coincidence strikes, for at the very moment Abi whispered her expletive, there was a knock at the door. She didn’t hear the first knock, so the visitor had to rap on the door again a few moments later; this time more urgently.

 

Abi rose and moved across the lounge to the small hallway. Normally, she’d be reticent to respond to callers on dark, winter evenings. They were as rare as hen’s teeth. But on this occasion, she casually unbolted and opened the door.

 

She stared momentarily at her visitor, standing under the glare of the lamp over the doorway. She was a strikingly pretty woman, with short blonde hair and bright eyes. Abi stared at her and immediately felt she knew her. ‘Hi. Can I help you?’

 

The young woman smiled weakly. ‘I think we can help each other.’

Abi looked puzzled. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean. Do I know you?’

‘We haven’t met formally, but I think you’ve seen me from afar.’

Abi felt puzzled. ‘I have?’

The woman nodded slowly. ‘You would probably recognise me more easily if I wore all black.’

 

Abi stood back slightly. ‘You!’ she exclaimed.

The woman nodded again. ‘Yes, the woman in the woods. In person.’ She glanced around her and then asked: ‘May I come in? It’s so frigging cold standing here, Abi.’

 

Abi stood aside and let her pass, then closed the front door. She nodded towards the lounge door. ‘In there,’ she said. ‘Go through’.

 

The woman moved into the room and then glanced around at her surroundings. ‘You’ve got this lovely and cosy,’ she said.

 

Abi didn’t speak. She motioned to the woman to sit down and then said: ‘I’ll give you 10 minutes to explain. If I feel at all threatened, in danger, I shall call the police.’

 

The woman looked at her for a moment and then nodded. ‘That’s fair enough. I have a lot to explain, and it might help if I make a few admissions. It’ll save time and clear the air.’

‘OK,’ replied Abi. ‘I’m listening.’ She sat down opposite the visitor, perched on the edge of her chair. ‘I’ll try not to interrupt. Say what you have to say.’

 

The woman fidgeted in her chair. ‘Yes, I started the fire, but I didn’t mean to hurt the animals. That bit went wrong. They panicked and I couldn’t control them quick enough to get them out. I meant to hurt Monty. Not physically, but in any way that ruined his life. In any way that gets back at him.’

 

Abi kept quiet and stared at the woman, who stared back and then carried on talking.

‘I know him of old and I have spent a lot of time tracking him down and trying to gather enough evidence to have him put away – for a long time.’ She sighed and then continued: ‘He’ll have told you a load of romantic crap about his life. The truth is he lies, cheats, hurts and then repeats. He’s a serial offender. And I believe he’s also a murderer.’

 

Abi felt a chill run through her. She was unsure what to believe. Monty wasn’t there to defend himself, to defend his tender stories and shared memories. But this woman, this complete stranger who set fires and stalked people? Well, her story was tallying with Abi’s few minutes of online research. Abi was panicking; she felt nauseous.

 

The young woman had stopped talking and was looking quizzically at her. ‘You know, I thought you would have interrupted by now, demanding to know who I am and screaming at me for slandering the man who has become your lover.’

 

Abi fell back into her seat. ‘My lover? What makes you think that?’ She swallowed hard.

The young woman ignored the question. ‘So why haven’t you asked who I am?’

Abi looked down at her lap and then up again. Her eyes met the woman’s opposite. ‘Because I think I know who you are. I think you’re Laura.’

 

The woman laughed, briefly and loudly. ‘Spot on. Bullseye.’

‘So, you think that the man I’ve befriended – that I visit when I can – is a murderer? I presume, Laura, you’re suggesting he murdered your mother?’

 

Laura nodded. ‘Yes, and I’m on the verge of proving it; proving he was driving the car that hit her and then left her to die. It was a premeditated act. In fact, when I found out where he lived, when I first visited it and had a look around, I was sure the car was in that barn.’

‘I’ve never seen a car,’ Abi replied. ‘There’s a battered old 4x4 and his digger. I’ve seen them, but no car.’ Abi wasn’t sure if she was trying to defend Monty or simply confirm the absence of evidence against him. Either way, she wanted the truth.

​

Suddenly, she sat forward. ‘OK. Here’s what we’ll do. I need a glass of wine and you’re welcome if you want one. I then want to hear your version of the story. Between us, we’ll work out where our paths go from here – either together or in our separate ways. Is that fair to you?’

 

Laura smiled. ‘It’s very fair, Abi, and thank you. Thanks for the offer of wine as well. I can have one, but no more. I know the likelihood of bumping into the police around here is almost zero, but who knows?’

​

Abi rose and moved to the table where the bottle of wine and her glass were sitting next to her computer. She reached to a side table for another glass and then poured two generous measures.

Laura glanced at her computer. ‘If we need to, I can log into my account and show you the files of evidence I’ve accumulated. It includes notes from meetings with police and lawyers – it might help you.’

 

‘OK.’ Abi handed Laura her glass and then sat back in her chair. ‘Please, tell me all – and don’t hold back. I need to know.’

‘Abi, please don’t think I’m here to hurt you because I’m here to protect you, to at least try to protect you from becoming a victim. So, hear me out - some of it’s not nice.’

‘I’ll be OK,’ promised Abi.

 

‘Right. Good.’ Laura took a sip of her wine. Abi noticed her bright eyes were moist, and she was a little flushed. Laura breathed out loudly.

 

‘My mother was a single mother. Passion, not love, led to my conception, but my mother’s love, care, and complete commitment were more than enough for me. Also, she wasn’t – like so many single mothers – short of a bob or two.

 

She’d inherited and had money, a house of her own, and no mortgage and no debts. She insisted I never held her back because she loved being a mother. It was all she wanted, I guess, and if she had a fault – one big enough to matter – it was that she wasn’t very ambitious. She was hardworking, though. Always busy.

 

One day, when I was a toddler, a man appeared at our house. Mum told me years later that he’d been pestering her for quite a while. He seemed nice enough, she said, but he was younger than her and there was something – she didn’t know what at the time – that made her hold back.’ Laura sighed deeply. ‘Anyway, eventually they got together.

 

Poor old mum had been living a nun’s life bringing me up – she gave in to his charms and good looks. Suddenly I had a stepdad. I think at this point you’ve probably spotted the first of many lies. Did he tell you Mum was married?’

‘Yes,’ Abi whispered.

 

‘It’s funny, isn’t it? No one asks if we’re OK with the parents we get. There’s no exchange available. No trial period. As kids, we’re just expected to put up with it. And we have to put up with the moving, from one house to another, from one town to another, from one school to another.

 

We moved a lot. I didn’t understand the reasons back then, but we were always selling up and moving. It always seemed so sudden – all rushed and last minute. I know now that Mum’s money eventually dwindled. Moving costs, second mortgages. You name it, he did it.’

 

Laura’s voice rose with anger. ‘And always in the bloody background was this creepy guy. Monty’s friend. He was always at our house and in the car with us. He gave me the creeps.’

‘Was his name Thomas?’ Abi asked.

 

‘That’s the man.’ Laura gulped her wine and emptied the glass. ‘I guess we’ve reached another lie. Well, from here on, they sort of merge into one continuous untruth. Our life was one big effing lie.’ She wiped tears from her cheek. ‘Do you know,’ Laura continued in a softer tone, ‘well, you wouldn’t know, but that creep tried to rape me when I was 15.

 

Thank God mum was in the house and heard me scream. But that cost her. She took a beating simply for defending her daughter.’ She looked over at Abi. ‘And if you have any doubts about me telling the truth, I have confirmation of her injuries – she went to hospital and the police questioned Monty and Thomas.’

 

Abi put her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her head on her hand. ‘Oh my God’, she whispered. She felt exhausted.

‘Could I have another drink?’ asked Laura. She held out her glass. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sleep in the car.’

 

Abi sat up and looked at her. ‘You’ll do no such thing. I have a spare bed. Besides, I don’t think I want to be on my tonight, and I have a couple of bottles of red wine.’

 

Abi refilled their glasses and then curled up in her chair. ‘OK. Please continue, Laura.’

‘Looking back, I realise Monty was what we’d now call coercive and controlling. The labels are unnecessary - he was a bully. And, on top of all that, he swindled people. It was what he and Thomas did – together.

 

They bullied, cheated and swindled. They treated women of all ages like shit. And when Monty finally swindled my mother of all her money and found sex elsewhere, he grew bored with her. Besides, he needed to replenish his bank account.’

‘What happened to Thomas?’ asked Abi.

 

‘I’m not sure. He simply vanished. He was there one day and gone the next. Perhaps a falling out among the thieves? Who knows? When I have Monty firmly by the balls, I will ask him; it’s always bugged me.’

 

‘Did you not warn your mother? Make her aware of the situation she was in, aware of Monty’s behaviour? Often, bullied people feel trapped; they may not even realise they’re being coerced and abused. I’m no expert – my understanding is based on other people’s experience and knowledge. It’s just what I’ve read and heard.’

 

‘Oh, she knew, Abi. She knew. For years she lived in denial and then after I nagged her and cajoled and scolded her, she finally realised enough was enough. She finally ran out of reasons to defend him and find excuses for him. But then, when she left him…’

 

Tears rolled down Laura’s cheeks, and she struggled to speak. ‘Then, finally, when she left him,’ she blurted, ‘the bastard followed her in a rage and then she’s dead. A mysterious hit and run. Like hell it was – that bastard killed her.’ Laura’s fist came down hard on the arm of the chair. ‘I think she was coming to meet me. We were going together.’

 

Abi looked up. ‘Where were you?’

‘At a friend’s house. The thing is…’ she paused again. ‘When I looked in mum’s wardrobe for something for the undertaker – you know, to dress her in – her clothes were all a mess. In fact, some of my clothes were in a mess. I noticed the day after she died.’

‘Was that unusual? I mean, we’ve all made a mess if we’re in a hurry.’

 

Laura shook her head. ‘No, mum was meticulously tidy, even annoyingly so. It rubbed off on me.’ She paused momentarily and then continued. ‘I think he put the stuff that mum had taken with her, back in the wardrobe and drawers. That means he picked it up at the scene and took it with him.’

 

Abi stood and hurried towards Laura. She kneeled and put her arms out to hold Laura’s hands.

‘The police had him; they couldn’t prove it. He’s so sneaky and vicious. As a criminal, he’s clever – brilliant. The CPS said there weren’t grounds to prosecute – not enough evidence. No car, no weapon, no nothing.’

 

Abi shuddered. ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Laura.

‘Nothing.’ Abi lowered her face and closed her eyes. The thought of Monty inside her that afternoon made her feel ill. ‘It’s just today. Today has made me feel bad. I was kind and looked after his burns. And then I did something idiotic.’

 

Laura gently pulled her hand free of Abi’s grasp and stroked her hair. ‘Was today the first time?’ she asked.

Abi looked up at the young woman’s face. The prettiness of her features and the wisdom in her eyes again struck Abi. ‘Why do you ask that?’

 

‘I saw. You looked beautiful framed in the window.’

Abi hung her head again. ‘Oh no.’ She looked up suddenly. ‘I feel so ashamed, so dirty.’

Laura stroked her head again. ‘Abi,’ the younger woman said, ‘you are not stupid, and you have nothing to be ashamed about. I’m just glad I can tell you the truth before anything bad happens to you.’