Page 21 of Her Last Walk Home

He rooted through a wooden cupboard searching for the bug spray. It pained him to have his work consigned to the shed. He’d have loved his own greenhouse. She’d said he wasn’t good enough to have one. Another of her methods of humiliating him, just like she humiliated anyone she didn’t like who came incontact with her. He wasn’t innocent in all this, but it gave him comfort to know none of it was his fault.

She lay on the hard, narrow bed. She no longer had any concept of how long she’d been held here. Weeks? Months? She had no idea, but it seemed like a year. She’d fallen into their routine, which meant waiting to be summoned downstairs to work.

Straining her ears, she listened. The house was quiet. That was good, wasn’t it? But she’d heard the argument that morning and heard him slamming the door of his shed, where he went to nurse his wounds. Pathetic man.

There was no chance of escaping, of opening the front door and running away. The house was surrounded by high stone walls and trees. She assumed it was located out in the countryside, somewhere no one except the householders ventured. His shed was wooden, with a long corner window. He could see her if she attempted to go out the back door. Not that she’d tried. All the windows in the house were bolted shut and seemed to be triple-glazed. As for the front door! It had multiple locks and huge steel bolts.

What she couldn’t figure out was why they wanted her, why they kept her. Okay, so she did some housework for them, but that was used as a humiliation tool, as was taping her mouth. What was their ulterior motive? Because she knew in the depths of her soul that she hadn’t been brought here just to wash dishes.

If she hadn’t been so nosy, if she’d left the past where it belonged, this never would have happened.

She’d learned over the time she’d been held here that it was unwise to ask questions. A beating would ensue. Her meagre food would be withheld. Her bony body bore testament to that.So she remained silent. The will to fight had been knocked out of her. That defeat made her more despondent than all the punishments she’d endured.

21

‘And like I told you on the phone, Mark, phase two of Pine Grove will be finished by the end of the summer,’ Charlie Lennon said, directing all her attention towards Boyd.

The estate agent was probably in her mid forties, but looked not a day over thirty. Tall, with shimmering dyed blonde hair tied into a carefree ponytail that Lottie suspected was anything but carefree, she wore a tailored green trouser suit and was very beautiful. Lottie didn’t like her.

‘Is the show home for sale?’ Boyd asked, overenthusiastically.

Lottie wanted to thump him to shut him up. Instead, she buried her chin in her jacket collar, wishing she hadn’t come along. It was madness leaving a hectic investigation for this. Boyd’s eyes were glowing, and she fought the urge to drag him away. Don’t get so bloody excited, she thought, we can’t afford this house.

‘Sorry.’ Charlie’s mouth drooped slightly. ‘Already sold. The new owners are still in London, but they’ll be moving here in the next six months. It’s great to have access to it, as it helps us sell houses off plan for the next phase.’

Lottie hadn’t wanted to see the show home at all. And leaving while Superintendent Farrell was doing the press briefingmightn’t be the best idea Boyd ever had. She was well aware that seeing the house would plant a seed of discontent in her.

‘Three bedrooms upstairs and another downstairs that can double as an office. You both could work from home. The broadband is excellent in this area. Let me show you this…’ Charlie marched ahead, hips swaying, her voice drifting along behind her.

Lottie shrugged a shoulder at Boyd, whose face was a picture of excitement.

‘It’s perfect,’ he said.

‘For you and Sergio perhaps, but what about my brood? We’d need to build an extension. And work from home? Where did she get that idea from?’

‘I may have told a white lie when I booked the viewing. No point in scaring her off saying two detectives are interested in buying a house on this estate.’

‘What estate, though? The second phase has barely started.’ Lottie felt like digging her heels in on this argument. The house was too small, full stop.

Reluctantly she followed him into the kitchen, where Charlie had spread drawings over the quartz countertop. Everything was sparkling whites and greys. The units were a light grey, the walls white. Good luck with that, she thought, visualising Louis running around with chocolate-smeared hands or, God forbid, a Sharpie marker. Sliding glass double doors led out to a miniature patio area surrounded by a matchbox-sized garden with a neat lawn. It could be AstroTurf, it was so perfect. This was not the house for them.

Her heart sank when she saw Boyd leaning over the drawings, pointing and asking questions, getting even more excited with whatever Charlie was telling him. Was this a losing battle?

Her inner dialogue highlighted the negatives. It was too expensive, too small, too new and way too white. She’d become used to living in dilapidated Farranstown House.

‘There’s a lot of white and grey,’ she murmured.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Charlie enthused. ‘You can choose your own colours. And it’s not grey, it’s cashmere.’

‘Thought cashmere was a wool sweater.’

Charlie smiled, her perfect teeth glinting under the recessed lighting. Lottie wondered if she’d flown to Turkey for them. The teeth, not the lights. With the commission she earned on this estate alone, she could probably afford to have her dental work done at home.

‘I can show you upstairs, or would you like to have a look around on your own?’ Charlie winked. Lottie stifled a groan.

‘We can manage,’ she said sourly, and turned on her heel towards the stairs.

‘Why are you so crotchety?’ Boyd joined her. ‘What’s not to like about the house?’

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