Page 20 of Wanting Daisy Dead

Lauren

Shit! Oh. My. God!

Everyone is looking at me, waiting for my explanation. The interview on the audio file has finished and I stare ahead for a moment, then go into a surprised reaction. I haven’t a clue what to say, but know I have to at least aim for some truth.

‘Yes, I was there when the laptop was returned. I opened the door and signed for the delivery from the police,’ I say.

‘But I don’t know what happened to it after that.

I just left it around and someone must have started using it, thinking it was a spare?

’ I suggest. It’s not ideal, but no one can argue it, though I’m sure Georgie will try.

Mind you, Teresa pretty much just accused her of being a knife-wielding bunny boiler, so she’ll be too busy worrying about how she looks to start heckling me.

I’m exhausted. This virtual accusation from Daisy’s mother was right off the back of Tammy singling me out, by making reference to ‘works of fiction that sold only because the writer happened to know Daisy Harrington’.

‘I have a headache,’ I murmur into the thick, accusatory silence, and leave the breakfast table.

Should I just forget this second book, go now and risk being found out?

Or do I stay, gather more information, and just hope nothing more about me comes out?

I have to consider the life-changing money the book would bring.

We could move to a bigger place, buy another holiday home to replace the one we lost. We could send Clementine to private school and I could have real designer handbags again instead of the fake shit I have to have now.

And God, what I would give for a neck lift.

Yes. I need to stay. I lie down on my bed, traumatised from that bloody podcast, and drop off to sleep.

When I wake I feel slightly better because I know that no one can prove I kept the laptop.

It lay around the house, and someone picked it up.

End of. It’s a lie, but a good one, and I’m completely covered.

So I collect my notebook and head back into the communal area.

I need to face them all and get all the information I can, but no one’s there, so I sit down and make some notes.

It isn’t long before Georgie walks in – the last person I want to see right now.

I don’t look up, but I can see her slim legs in designer jeans on the sofa.

I’m not sure how long I can ignore her, so I look up.

But just as I do, she begins to leaf through the book I left on the coffee table. A Day in the Life and Death. My book.

‘That was a difficult listen,’ I say.

‘Who for?’ She looks up, frowning.

‘Erm ... Both of us, I guess?’

‘Not for me. I wasn’t jealous of Daisy, and she wasn’t scared of me. Her stupid mother got it all wrong –it makes me so fucking angry. Because she doesn’t know what really happened, she’s making shit up and I’m a sitting target.’

‘Yeah ... Me too. I mean, that laptop was just left around, but she made out I stole it.’

Georgie’s looking at me with this incredulous expression on her face, then she says, ‘You and I both know you did a lot more than steal Daisy’s laptop.’ Her voice is icy, and I’m chilled to the bone. She knows.

I’m trying not to react to what she said, because whatever my response is, I know my guilt will show itself.

She’s stuck the metaphorical knife in my chest and is now ignoring me.

My whole body is tingling with fear; this could be it for me.

She’s flicking erratically through the book, and the air seems to prickle and spark.

She isn’t reading it, she’s just working out how to twist that knife and hurt me some more.

Georgie’s always watching, listening, like a wild animal waiting to pounce.

I think she’s jealous of other women’s looks, their careers, their lives. She was so negative about my success, whereas the others were kind and supportive. When my book was first released Maddie sent flowers, and Dan sent champagne. But nothing from Georgie.

‘What’s your new book about?’ she suddenly asks without looking up.

‘It’s another crime book.’

At this she lifts her head, and I brace myself. ‘ Crime . Like this one?’ She lifts the book up.

‘Yeah, but this time it’s non-fiction. A true crime, murder ... sort of ...’

‘ Murder? Seems to be your speciality ...’

We hold each other’s gaze too long. I’m the first to look away.

Our phones ping and I open up my WhatsApp for the inevitable voice note.

‘Get your buckets and spades, we’re off to Exmouth Beach for ice cream and sandcastles. A place for old friends to unwind and chat, just like you once did as students – wandering the beaches, sharing stories and memories, good and bad.’

First Teresa’s implied accusation over the laptop, then Georgie’s vileness, and now this weird, fake-fun message about revisiting the place where Daisy was hammered to death. I don’t know what stops me from just bursting into tears.

‘What’s happening now?’ Dan appears in the doorway with his hair all mussed up.

‘Have you been asleep?’ Georgie asks, disapprovingly.

‘I have, my princess. I was hoping you’d come and kiss me awake.’ He winks at me.

‘Fuck off!’ she says. She’s obviously still angry about Teresa, and I take a moment of sadistic pleasure imagining her anger if she finds out what her husband’s been up to. But my dark pleasure is fleeting, and a heavy mass of dread creeps into my mind.

Half an hour later we all reluctantly set off for the car park, where apparently our carriage awaits.

Georgie and I end up walking together through the halls and, as the other two take the lift, she refuses, insisting on going down the three flights of stairs. I feel obligated to join her.

‘So, do you enjoy crime?’ she asks. Again, I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to torture me, and like all victims of torture I just want her to stop, but I try to sound strong.

‘Yes, as much as anyone can enjoy crime.’

‘You can’t fool me, Lauren. I see you.’

‘What ... what do you mean?’ My heart’s pumping, and it isn’t because of the stairs.

What does she know? There’s a sting in my chest. I feel like my ears have suddenly filled up with water.

‘What have you done since you wrote the last book?’ she’s now asking as we walk into the freezing car park. I feel like she knows the lie that is my life.

‘I’ve been working on the next one.’

‘For eighteen years?’ She turns to me, doubt in her eyes.

I pull my fleece jacket tighter around me, to protect against the questions as much as the cold. Even I can’t lie about this; it’s bloody obvious I haven’t had a book out since the first one, and Georgie’s not stupid. I’m now bracing myself for the vicious comment that might destroy me.

It’s suddenly all too much, and I feel tears spring to my eyes, and to my own surprise I start crying. Georgie doesn’t deem this significant enough to acknowledge, but just then Maddie and Dan appear and, within seconds, Maddie is by my side.

‘What is it, Lauren?’ she says gently, as Dan and Georgie reunite. He’s asking her if she upset me and she’s quietly but angrily defending herself as we walk along together.

‘Sorry.’ I grab a tissue from my pocket and wipe my eyes. ‘I’m being silly, ignore me.’

‘You okay, Lauren?’ Dan asks, concerned.

‘Yeah, Georgie was asking about my next book, and I just started thinking about the deadline, and felt overwhelmed,’ I lie. I see him shoot a look at Georgie, who turns away and starts to walk on her own. Good! It’s about time she was called out. I’m beginning to think she’s truly evil .

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Maddie offers. ‘You’ll get there, Lauren. You did it before, you can do it again.’ Dan is nodding in agreement, and I genuinely appreciate their kindness.

‘Thanks, guys,’ I say as we approach the minibus. Georgie’s leaning against it, waiting, arms folded, her face like thunder, obviously having expected Dan to run after her.

‘God, it’s freezing.’ Dan’s stamping his feet to try to keep warm as he opens the bus door and stands back to let us on. But Georgie’s already slipping in ahead, securing the best seat for herself and Dan.

‘Sorry ... You know what she’s like,’ he whispers in my ear, his hand on my waist. He’s pretending to help me up, but his hands move up and under my jumper, touching bare flesh so briefly I barely register it. I don’t react, and Georgie’s too busy pouting in her powder mirror to catch it.

‘Can you put the heater on, mate?’ Dan asks the driver, and soon we are thawing in the little bus as it trundles along to Exmouth Beach.

But within the first few minutes of pulling away, Georgie obviously wants to continue my public shaming. ‘You wouldn’t get me slaving over a second book if I’d made the money you have. You have three homes – do you really need any more?’

‘It isn’t about the money. It’s about the creative fulfilment, Georgie.’

‘Oh, right,’ she mutters, gazing out of the window.

‘Have you read the book, or seen the film?’ I ask.

‘God, no, not my kind of read.’ She frowns and opens the Hello! magazine she’s brought with her from the apartment.

‘Yeah, Georgie only reads high-brow, academic stuff,’ Dan jokes, taking his life in his hands.

She doesn’t respond, but I know he’s going to suffer for that later. I look out of the window, glad she hasn’t read my book or seen the film. I don’t want her analysing every sentence and destroying me with her cruel critiques.

By the time we arrive at the beach there’s a wind beginning to whip along as we climb from the bus. The sting of sand and sunshine is a stark reminder of the times I came here with Daisy. It makes me so uncomfortable.

‘You used to drive us here,’ I say to Dan. I’m thinking of the time we came alone, just the two of us. It was too hot, and I drank too much, and we stayed too long, our faces and shoulders pink.

‘Yeah, we had some good times down on this beach.’ He puts his arm around Georgie and I’m suddenly jealous. Richard and I barely touch anymore.

We walk in a gaggle along the beach, throwing stones, teasing the ripples of icy-cold water then skipping away as they chase us back up the beach.

Dan and Maddie walk on ahead, and start to run along the edge of the water, and she screams when he catches her, and they play-fight.

I glance over at Georgie, waiting for the tight lips, the jealous flame, but all I see is hurt.

I have this weird urge to comfort my tormentor; she’s all teeth and nails and fire, but underneath I know she’s as vulnerable as me.

‘This is fun,’ I say as we walk along together.

‘It’s not fun, though, is it, Lauren?’ She looks at me, and pain shines in her eyes. I never realised before, but I think it’s always been there. ‘I wish I was the kind of woman men chase along a beach,’ she murmurs, staring wistfully at Dan as he puts Maddie in a headlock.

She clearly isn’t comfortable with their physical closeness, and can’t bear to watch anymore; she picks up speed, jogging on ahead.

Daisy was right, she was Dan’s jailer and his stalker, and that hasn’t changed – she’s clearly still concerned about her husband and other women.

She should be. I feel for Maddie, though: she’s no match for Georgie on the warpath.

There’s a reason we called Georgie Scary Spice and Maddie Baby Spice.

I can’t help but notice Maddie’s wearing the Hermès scarf again.

Is it just a coincidence that we both have one and mine went missing?

Unless my first thought was correct, and Maddie took it from Daisy’s room, because the last time I saw it that’s where it was.

Daisy definitely never gave it back to me.

I feel quite angry and frustrated, because I know it’s my scarf but can’t prove it, so I just try not to look at the beautiful soft silk in pale chocolate and turquoise.

I keep walking in the same direction, watching Georgie ahead of me as she jogs even faster now to break up the party of two. What does she think she can save? Dan? Their marriage? Her sanity? Looks to me like that train left some time ago.

The wind is nipping at my face, but the sunshine’s bright and crisp and the beach is pretty.

Not many people around today, and the cold is biting, but it’s calm and quiet save for the constant, soothing hiss of waves.

Then something makes me turn around and look behind me.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

She’s here. A teenage ghost in shorts and a crop top, dancing along the beach, excited to be here, excited to be .

I smile, and relief washes over me. I can explain everything to her.

She’ll forgive me, won’t she? But then suddenly a cloud crosses the sun, and the beach is plunged into greyness. When I look back, she’s gone.

In the far distance now, Georgie is approaching Dan and Maddie, who are still locked in flirtatious combat. She reaches out, takes Dan’s hand and removes him from temptation, staking her claim. I watch from my safe distance as they circle each other, moving uncertainly in the still grey light.

Suddenly, I feel sharp little clusters of ice on my face, and look up to see hail falling dizzily from the sky.

The others start to run back to where I am, and when they get to me we run together, laughing and calling just like we used to.

We moved into and out of and around each other’s lives, sometimes on the edges, sometimes in the middle.

I realise in that moment that, whether we like it or not, we will always dance like this, together and apart – Daisy tied us to this place, to each other, forever.

Once back at the apartment, we shed wet clothes and I go to the student prison cell I once considered my sanctuary. I lock my door and sit on the narrow bed, feeling the same as when the world was younger and hope lingered in the air like the scent of spring.

Now, I sit in the dark wintry afternoon knowing this weight I carry will only increase as time goes on.

I still see her, hear her voice calling me, echoing through the years.

I’m overwhelmed by guilt and grief. I feel a sudden chill run through me, and something makes me turn and look through the window.

The sky is dark; bare trees move in the wind like black skeletons against the dusky backdrop.

And my heart almost stops at the face staring through the window.

She’s there, outside, staring through the glass, her hands flat on the windowpane.

I gasp – her eyes are filled with terror, her mouth opening in a scream.

But there’s no sound. My heart thumps loudly in my head.

I hear a whimper coming from my mouth, then, silently, I scramble off the bed, unlock the door and, my whole body now electric with fear, run from the room.