He Will Find You: A nail-biting and emotional psychological suspense for 2018. Diane Jeffrey

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t recognise her the second time I see her. And then I do that thing where you realise someone’s face is familiar but they seem out of context, and I can’t immediately place her. If she wasn’t wearing a swimming hat and goggles, it might help.

      She has stopped in the shallow end and, as there are only the two of us in the lane, we’ve said hello to each other.

      ‘Do I know you?’ I feel stupid for asking that question.

      ‘Sorry?’ She pulls the silicone hat away from her ears and tips her head from side to side.

      ‘Have we met?’ It sounds like a cheesy chat-up line and I cringe inside.

      ‘I don’t think so,’ she says, moving her goggles up onto her forehead and giving me a quick wide smile. Her teeth stick out a bit, and now I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before.

      She rubs the inside of her goggles where they have misted up and puts them back on. Then she pushes off the wall. I watch in admiration as she glides through the water gracefully and tumble-turns at the end. It doesn’t look like she’s going to stop for a rest any time soon, so that seems to be the end of our little conversation. After my opening gambit, I’m not surprised she sprinted off.

      As I’m lathering shampoo into my hair after my swim, she reappears. Whipping off her swimming hat and goggles, she presses the button for the shower opposite mine. Now I can see she has short hair and as she locks her large dark eyes on to mine it comes to me. She’s the woman from the lake.

      ‘You have a little white dog,’ I say.

      ‘Yes, I do.’ She looks at me suspiciously. ‘How did you know that?’

      ‘I saw you once a few weeks ago when we were out walking the Coffin Trail.’

      Her pencil-thin eyebrows have shot right up and disappeared under her wet soapy hair. ‘We?’

      ‘My husband and I.’

      ‘Husband?’ she echoes. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t remember you. Or your husband.’

      ‘We didn’t talk. I probably only remember because Alex – that’s my husband – was scared of your dog.’

      ‘Really?’

      She introduces herself then. She has a soft melodious voice.

      ‘Hi Vicky. I’m Kaitlyn,’ I say. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ And I am. Apart from a few shopkeepers and some of Alex’s friends, I’ve hardly talked to anyone local since I moved here.

      ‘How far gone are you?’ she asks, lowering her gaze to my stomach.

      ‘Seven months.’

      ‘You’re looking very good for seven months,’ she says, still focusing on my bump.

      I’m not. I’m huge. Which is why I wanted to swim today. I’m hoping to come to the leisure centre here in Kendal regularly from now on, but of course Alex mustn’t find out. He seems to think any unnecessary movement I make might have an adverse effect on our baby. I find it sweet that he frets so much, but it’s stifling spending nearly all day every day in that mansion of his.

      ‘You swim very well,’ I say, desperate to keep the conversation going.

      ‘I swam competitively as a kid,’ she says. ‘I used to train for about three hours a day. I’m bored of doing lengths now, but it keeps me fit.’ She grins, revealing her improbably white teeth again, but as she hasn’t met my eyes, it’s as if she’s talking to my tummy.

      ‘I’d like to get fitter,’ I tell her. I’ve put on way too much weight with the pregnancy, but I don’t add this out loud.

      ‘You’re a pretty good swimmer yourself,’ she says, bending down to pick up her shampoo bottle. With a little wave of her hand, she’s gone, and I wish we’d chatted more. Perhaps I’ll bump into her again if I make a habit of coming here to swim.

      But when I’ve finished getting dressed, she’s drying her hair. I fumble in my purse for change for the hairdryer and take the one next to her. I study her in the mirror. I’m tall, but she is a good two inches taller. I consider myself to be a little ungainly, particularly at the moment, whereas she holds herself up straight with an elegant poise. Despite her stark facial features, she’s very attractive.

      In the shower, I had the impression she was refusing to make eye contact, but now she’s staring at me with insistent wide eyes. I look away, feeling a little uncomfortable, as if she’s scrutinising me.

      To my surprise, when the hairdryers cut out, she says, ‘Would you like to go for a coffee in the leisure centre café?’

      ‘I’d love to,’ I say, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t today.’

      ‘Oh. Well, maybe another time,’ she says. ‘It was nice talking to you, Kaitlyn.’

      And with that, she disappears through the swing doors and I’m left alone in the changing rooms. Damn! I should have made sure there was going to be another time. Just as this thought enters my head, she’s back, rummaging in her handbag. She finds a pen and a receipt. Leaning on the little ledge by the mirror, she scribbles something and then hands the scrap of paper to me.

      ‘Give me a call next week if you come for a swim. Evenings or lunchtimes suit me best. We could grab a coffee afterwards then if you want.’

      I look at the paper and see she has noted down a mobile number. She hasn’t written her name.

      ‘OK, thanks,’ I say, pleased at how eager Vicky seems to meet up with me again. This time she holds the wooden doors open for me and I follow her through the reception area and out into the car park.

      As I get into my car, it dawns on me that I know hardly anything about this woman. I don’t know what she does for a living or if she’s married or single. All I know is she has a dog and she’s an excellent swimmer. She knows even less about me. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to see her again. I ignore the niggling doubt in my mind, thrilled at the idea I might finally be making a friend.

      I fish my mobile phone out of the pocket of my jacket, which I’ve flung on the passenger’s seat, and as I add Vicky to my contacts, the phone beeps and vibrates several times. I have six missed calls, two voice messages and four text messages. They’re all from Alex. I read the text messages. Trepidation erases the joy I was feeling. I turn the key in the ignition, opting to get going rather than ring or text him back.

      ‘Hi,’ I say, brightly as I make an attempt at breezing through the front door with my large frame about fifteen minutes later. I’ve left my swimming bag in the boot of my car for now. Alex is sitting on the stairs in the ‘vestibule’.

      ‘You’re late.’ He sounds aggressive.

      I wonder how to play this and decide it’s best not to snap back at him. I need to placate him before this gets out of hand.

      ‘Where have you been?’ he barks before I can say anything. ‘Didn’t you get my messages? Why didn’t you answer your mobile? I was worried.’

      ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’ I СКАЧАТЬ