Don’t Turn Around: A heart-stopping gripping domestic suspense. Amanda Brooke

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СКАЧАТЬ off Charlie’s knee and slump down onto the mattress so I can stare at the ceiling instead of his face.

      ‘All this publicity for the helpline has brought back memories that none of us take pleasure in revisiting,’ Charlie continues. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to add to your worries by telling you Lewis was back home. You’re bound to be paranoid for a while.’

      ‘Paranoid?’ I could laugh. Actually, no, I could cry. I squeeze my eyes shut to stop myself but the urge intensifies as the mattress dips, rocking me slightly as Charlie lies back too. We’re shoulder to shoulder; two friends trying to make sense of the world and the people in it.

      If I try really hard, I can imagine it’s Meg lying next to me. She might not have told me everything but we did talk, and I long to go back to those times in her bedroom when I fretted and she fixed.

      ‘It’s so lovely and quiet here,’ I’d told her once as we lay sideways across her single bed with our feet dangling over the edge. It was the beginning of summer – our last one before Lewis entered our lives – and we were recharging our batteries after our GCSEs. Unfortunately for me, it had been impossible to find peace at home with one sister back from uni and reclaiming the top bunk in our bedroom, another having practically moved her boyfriend in and the third spending the last months of her pregnancy under Mum’s watchful gaze.

      ‘It’s too quiet,’ Meg replied.

      I’d noticed a certain frostiness between Ruth and Geoff when I’d arrived. Ruth was complaining about the amount of time her husband spent on the golf course and his response had been to pick up his golf clubs and storm out.

      ‘Is everything OK between Auntie Ruth and Uncle Geoff?’

      ‘It would be if Mum would stop having a go at Dad all the time. Can’t she see what she’s doing?’ Meg said, letting her arm drop across her face to cover her eyes.

      ‘You think they’ll get divorced?’ I asked with a gasp as I stared at Meg’s downturned mouth and willed it to stop trembling.

      ‘They’d have to break up the business if they did that, so no, they’ll just carry on making each other miserable.’

      ‘As well as you?’

      Meg pulled her arm away to stare up at the ceiling. ‘Sean’s so lucky, heading off to uni. I can’t wait till it’s my turn,’ she said.

      ‘I can’t either. It’ll be the two of us against the world,’ I said, offering her a smile.

      Meg didn’t take it. ‘Oh, no,’ she said extending her arm behind her so she could tug at the brightly coloured scarves she kept hanging over her bedpost. Draping crimson silk across her face, she added, ‘You need to find your own way, Jennifer Hunter. We will not be going to the same university. You can’t hide behind me for the rest of your life.’

      ‘But I don’t want to be on my own.’

      She silenced me with her gaze. ‘And right now, neither do I. I’m dreading Sean going.’

      ‘I could come over more often. Mum probably wouldn’t notice if I never came home at all. Dad definitely wouldn’t.’

      Meg let the silk fall and pulled herself up onto her elbow, her eyes alight. ‘In that case, why don’t you move in? Mum wouldn’t mind and I can get around Dad easily.’

      Her excitement had been infectious but it wasn’t Meg’s parents who had stood in our way. I never did move in.

      When I open my eyes, Meg is gone and it’s Charlie who’s lifted himself up to look at me. His eyes look as scratchy as mine feel.

      ‘Can you at least find out who Lewis’s girlfriend is?’ I ask. ‘Please, Charlie.’

      ‘And what exactly do you plan on doing with that information? You can’t contact her, Jen. Please. You don’t know what kind of trouble you might cause.’

      I twist onto my side so I can look Charlie in the eye. His frown matches my own. ‘Surely Lewis will be too busy caring for his mum to cause us any more trouble,’ I suggest innocently.

      ‘Keep away from him, Jen.’

      Charlie’s tone makes my cheeks warm with guilt. Dismissing the idea that he might be jealous of the attention I’m giving Lewis, I say, ‘I know he’s dangerous. It’s not like I’ve fallen for the sympathy act.’

      ‘Neither have I.’

      Unconvinced, I add, ‘That’s how men like Lewis get away with what they do. They make you believe they’re nice because they seem vulnerable, or misunderstood, or in need of a second, third or fourth chance.’

      ‘So being nice is a bad thing?’ says the nicest man I know.

      ‘No, your kind of nice is good,’ I say, my tone softening as I stroke his cheek.

      ‘Are you sure about that?’ he asks. His eyes narrow and his words have an edge to them that I’m not expecting. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘But not sure enough to marry me.’

      I suppress a groan as I roll onto my back again but I don’t break eye contact. ‘It doesn’t mean I love you any less, Charlie. You’re one of the good ones. I’ve never doubted that, not for a minute.’

      Charlie turns his face away from me and gets up without a word. Squeezing my eyes shut, tears burn the back of my closed lids as I listen to him padding across the room.

      ‘I might nip out and pick up the sour cream,’ he says. ‘When I get back, could we just forget about everyone else for at least one night?’

      ‘Yeah, that would be good,’ I say. I don’t open my eyes until the door clicks shut, and I don’t move off the bed until I hear Charlie leave the apartment.

      Wrapping myself in Charlie’s towelling dressing gown, I return to the living room. I stir the chilli before grabbing my phone and slumping down onto the sofa. I have until Charlie comes back to continue my hunt for Lewis.

      Am I being paranoid? A little obsessed perhaps, but isn’t that understandable? Lewis hasn’t simply returned to Liverpool, he’s come back into our lives. The solicitor’s letter might have been a knee-jerk reaction to Ruth’s accusations, but what about Ellie’s call? What if Lewis had been listening in, laughing at me? Ruth was promoting the helpline when she attacked him so it makes sense that it should be his target.

      Opening my Facebook app, I see that Jay has refused my friend request and, to my utter humiliation, Meathead has unfriended me too. My sigh of frustration catches in my throat as a new thought strikes. I open a browser and tap in a new search.

      Lewis McQueen, the personal trainer, appears on the second page of results with a link to his website. Skimming through the information, I can’t see any mention of the hotel where he works, but it would appear that Lewis offers boot camp sessions in the city centre. Judging by the photo on the bookings page, they take place in Chavasse Park, which is on the upper level of the Liverpool One shopping mall, on the opposite side of the Strand to Mann Island. As I scroll down the page, I find a Twitter feed showing СКАЧАТЬ