“Here,” he said. “This is for you.”
I reached inside the bag and pulled out my scarf, my blue and pink scarf with its wild abstract patterns and its soft, tender touch. The one Harry had bought me because he loved me. The scarf Tom had taken from me in the middle of the night because I loved Harry.
I could barely speak, my mouth was so dry. “Where did you get that?”
“Dad gave it to me,” he said. “I told him I’d been to your flat and he asked me to give it to you the next time I saw you. You forgot to take it when you left home; he knew you loved it.”
I breathed out. I knew I hadn’t left it here. Tom had known that, too.
CHAPTER 77
Ruby
Oliver came out of his house as Josh was leaving. He gave the boy a hug and they stood talking for a moment. I didn’t go out there to join them; I worried that Josh would get upset again.
I went upstairs to the study and stood to the side of the window, so that I could look down at them unnoticed. Oliver said something and Josh laughed. I held my scarf to my face and breathed in. I could smell the perfume I’d worn in Paris, the weekend Harry and I decided to be together.
Oliver and Josh talked for a while, then Josh pointed toward the road. Together they walked down the drive and I guessed they were going to look at Josh’s car.
As they walked I noticed that from behind Josh looked just like Tom. He walked like him. They were the same height now, the same build, though Tom had filled out a bit over the years. But now, looking at Josh as he walked away I saw how alike they were. It was odd I hadn’t noticed it before. I wondered which was his car; I hadn’t seen it when he came to my flat. I would have thought he’d have parked on our driveway, enjoying showing me how he’d managed to reverse in without bashing the fender on the low brick wall.
They crossed the road. Just beyond Oliver’s house, on the bend of the road, was a car. Josh held out his key fob and the lights on the car flashed.
I held my breath. I’d seen that car before. It looked like the one that had driven past me that night when I was walking home from the wine bar, the night when I was sure I was being followed. It had stopped just in front of me, on the darkest part of the road, and I’d been terrified. I’d known that something bad would happen if the driver got out.
I had to be sure. I searched frantically through Tom’s desk until I found his binoculars. I’d bought them for him one Christmas when I was stuck for something to buy. He’d brought it up every Christmas afterward, as a sign I didn’t know him. He was right. I didn’t, and now I never would.
I dragged a chair over to the window and, balancing precariously on it, I focused the lens on the back of the silver car.
Slowly the registration plate came into focus and I saw the letters MW. I held my breath and moved the binoculars down a little. There it was, the dual exhaust.
It was as though my brain couldn’t compute what my eyes had seen. I stood staring for a few minutes, watched as Oliver clapped Josh on the back and turned to come back to his own house. I watched as Josh started his car and drove off carefully. Once Oliver was in his own house I went downstairs and into the garden and put the scarf into the bin outside. I didn’t want to see it again. I’d thought it was bought with love—well, look how that turned out. And it was touched, taken, by someone who hated me.
When I came back into the house I was cold and shivering, though the day was still warm. I sat in the kitchen, the only room I’d really felt at home in, my arms around my chest, and thought about the car. Had Tom borrowed it from Josh, or had it been Josh who’d followed me that night? And then I thought: Who had been in my house? Had Tom really given Josh my scarf to give to me, or had Josh taken it from me in the middle of the night?
How could I know? I could never ask Josh without sounding as though I was crazy, and in any case I knew I would never completely trust his answer.
Tom would love that. He could rest in peace; I couldn’t.
CHAPTER 78
Ruby
It took almost a week to get the house sorted out, and while I scrubbed floors and paintwork and deep-cleaned carpets and curtains, all I could do was think about Tom and how he’d gotten hold of a key to my flat and how he’d tormented me there, and Josh and his car.
When everything was sorted I sent Josh a message, asking him to come and take whatever he wanted. He’d already taken his dad’s car; I came home from the shops the day after I’d said he could have it to find it gone. He’d left a note saying he was going to sell it and use the money for a gap year. In my message I said it might be a good idea to get his stepdad, Martin, to come with him in case there was anything heavy to lift. I didn’t want to be alone with Josh. I had never considered before now that even a fraction of doubt in someone means you can never really trust them.
Martin arrived first, parking his huge Land Rover behind my car. I went out to greet him and he kissed me on the cheek, something he’d never done before.
“How are you coping?” he asked, a sympathetic look on his face.
Now, that was a hard question to answer truthfully.
“Oh, you know.” I shrugged. “Is Josh coming?”
“Yes, I thought he’d be here by now,” he said. “There won’t be room for him on the drive, though. He’ll have to park on the street.”
I wondered whether that was deliberate, whether he’d chosen to arrive later so that he wouldn’t have to park near the house. In case I looked closely at his car. In case I challenged him. But when Josh came bounding up the driveway, tanned after a few days in Brighton with his friends, that thought seemed impossible.
“I stopped off to get these,” he said, thrusting some flowers into my hand. He leaned down to kiss me. I stood very still, unable to put my arms around him as I usually would.
“Thanks.” I had no intention of keeping those flowers in my home. “I’ll find a vase.”
“Are you sure you don’t want the electronics?” asked Josh.
“I don’t want anything,” I said. “Take whatever you want. Anything that’s left is going to charity.”
He looked confused.
“I’m having a fresh start,” I said.
He nodded slowly, then went into the living room.
Martin and I stood in the hallway for a couple of moments. “I know what he was like,” he said gently. “Tom, I mean. Belinda told me all about him. She said she felt claustrophobic at the end of their marriage, as though she was locked in a very small room.”
I shuddered. I’d felt the same way at times.