The House Page 4

  “Babe, if you don’t want to move out of London, we don’t have to. It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.” Fin stroked Sadie’s shoulder down to her arm and took her hand. “Just say the word, and we’ll look for something in town. Okay?”

  Sadie put her arms around her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “I love you, Fin Claiborne. We should offer on the house.”

  “Really?” Fin drew her in and squeezed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Fin thought she sounded more confident this time. “Thank you, Sadie. Thank you.”

  Someone cleared their throat behind them and they turned, still in each other’s arms. Sadie broke away when she saw Bev’s hand.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” she asked.

  Fin looked down and saw Bev’s hand was bleeding quite badly.

  “Fucking nail sticking out of the wall,” Grant ground out. His face was red and Fin could practically see him tossing up in his mind whether to try and sue.

  “You should go to hospital,” Sadie said, unwinding the scarf from her neck. “Here, wrap this around it.”

  When no one made a move to take it from her, she wrapped it around Bev’s hand herself and pulled it tight.

  “Thanks,” Bev said weakly.

  “Come on, let’s get out of this deathtrap,” Grant said and took his wife by the arm.

  Gemma gave Fin a watery smile. “That was unfortunate.”

  Fin bet she could see her commission floating out of reach.

  “Yeah. I know you had high hopes for them. We want to make an offer. Asking price,” Fin said more confidently than she felt. There would be more Grant and Bevs with more money than her and Sadie. She knew the chances were high they would be outbid. But she wanted the house. A lot.

  Gemma nodded. “Okay. I’ll drive them back to their car and let the owners know.”

  She hurried out of the house, leaving Sadie and Fin alone.

  “Poor Bev,” Sadie said and shook her head.

  “Yeah, poor Bev,” Fin echoed, when what she was really thinking about was whether the nail would be enough to put them off buying the house. Somehow, she doubted it.

  * * *

  Fin was in her workshop picking at a salad when her phone rang. She’d decided to break for lunch and was considering packing work in and going home. Fin was so preoccupied with thoughts of the house, she’d barely got anything done and the work was starting to pile up. The only thing stopping her from knocking off early was the thought of spending more time with Treven.

  Her heart thumped in her chest when she saw it was Gemma, the estate agent, calling.

  “Hi, Gemma,” she answered.

  “Ms. Claiborne. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Is there news on our offer?” Fin asked, not holding out much hope.

  “Yes, I’m pleased to say it’s been accepted.”

  Fin’s heart triple timed, and she barely resisted the urge to let out a whoop. “That’s great news. I honestly thought we would be outbid by Grant and Bev,” she said and managed to keep the excitement out of her voice.

  Gemma was silent on the other end and Fin thought they’d been cut off. In a quieter voice, she said, “Bev died.”

  Fin thought she’d misheard. “What? Did you say died?”

  “Yes. She got septicaemia and then it turned into sepsis.”

  “That’s awful.” Fin wanted the house, but she didn’t want it at the expense of Bev’s life. “Was it from that nail?”

  “That’s what her husband says. He wants to sue. Look, I shouldn’t really be talking about this.” Gemma sounded nervous.

  “No, of course not. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

  “Thanks. I just thought you should know.” She hesitated. “Do you still want the house?”

  Why wouldn’t she? “Yes, definitely. Just do me a favour and don’t mention this to Sadie. She’s had a rough few months, and I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “Okay.”

  They spoke for a few more minutes, exchanging solicitors’ details and other information. When Fin hung up, the news about Bev had dampened her enthusiasm slightly, though she was still over the moon about the house. She felt less good about keeping Bev’s death a secret from Sadie. Fin told herself Sadie had enough to deal with at the moment, but a quiet voice in the back of her head wondered if it was more to do with being afraid of Sadie deciding against the house if she knew.

  Fin decided not to think about it any more. What was done was done, and they needed to move forward. The house was going to be a fresh start for all of them. Bev’s death was tragic, but it certainly had nothing to do with the house.

  Chapter Seven

  Four months later

  Sadie folded one of Lucy’s T-shirts and put it in the suitcase before zipping it closed. The house sale and purchase of the new one had gone smoothly, and today they were moving in.

  Fin was with the removal guys at the old house, packing up the last of the furniture, and would meet Sadie and the kids at the new place. She still hadn’t been back to the house. The panic attacks came less often now, but she still couldn’t bring herself to go back there, and even thinking about it made her chest tight. It didn’t help that the police still hadn’t found Lance Sherry—she’d assumed that with all the CCTV and other technology around, it would have been quick and easy.

  Their family liaison officer, Helen, told her and Fin they thought he’d managed to go abroad. From what Sadie gathered, Sherry was well connected in the criminal world, and it wouldn’t have been too much trouble for him to get out of the UK. It would take years to track him down and potentially even longer to have him extradited if he’d gone outside the EU.

  She sighed and sat on the bed. Fin and the kids were so excited about moving, and all she felt was a peculiar sort of dread. She didn’t understand it. True, she hadn’t fallen in love with the house like Fin, but she didn’t hate it either. When she tried to think about what was bothering her, she was overcome with tiredness and her thoughts became muddled.

  It was probably her poor overworked brain’s way of putting a stop to all the worrying. Sadie had always been a planner and a thinker, while Fin was happier to go where the wind took her. Before, Sadie had enjoyed the way her mind worked, but since the attack it was like she’d overloaded it. Her thoughts had always been crisp and clear and logical, but now she felt like she was slogging through thick fog. She felt dull, and all the edges now rippled and wavered.

  The psychologist she was seeing helped. She made Sadie feel like she was normal, that her reactions and responses were okay. Maybe they were, for now. Maybe all she needed was time to adjust and rest. This move would do that for her. She hadn’t even thought about her job, and the chambers were being incredibly understanding. They’d given her three months’ wages with her severance, which was generous. Combined with Fin’s pay, they would be fine for a while yet. Maybe she’d take up knitting and join the Women’s Institute. Sadie was struck by an image of herself as a fifties housewife and laughed.

  “Care to share the joke?”

  Sadie turned at the voice of her father in the doorway. He was a big man with wide shoulders. Sadie had a memory of him carrying her on those shoulders, his large hands holding on to her little girl legs, warm and strong. His hair was more grey than black now, but he still looked much younger than sixty-three. Sadie knew she favoured him more in looks and height, although she had her mother’s slender frame.

  “I was thinking about joining the Women’s Institute,” she joked.

  Her father smiled. “Your grandmother would be proud. Have you finished packing?”

  She watched him hover in the doorway and could tell he had something to say.

  “Dad. You didn’t come up here to help me with packing.” She patted the bed beside her and he came and sat.

  “I know it sounds silly, but I don’t want you to go.”

  “Oh, Dad.” She leaned in to him. />
  “I know, I know.” He stood again before she could put an arm around him. Treven Tate wasn’t comfortable with displays of physical affection—except when she and Rena were little. She remembered him cuddling them all the time back then.

  “You were like this the last time I moved out.”

  He grinned. “I told you, I wasn’t crying when you left for university. It was my allergies.”

  “It was September, Dad.”

  They both laughed, then looked at each other. She’d always been the apple of her father’s eye. Unfortunately for Rena, he’d never hidden it very well. “After what happened…I feel like I don’t want you to leave. You’re safe here with me.”

  Sadie was surprised he’d voiced his feelings—he so rarely did. “I’ll be safe there too. Fin had an alarm system installed yesterday.”

  “Did she?” He looked surprised.

  “Yes, Dad. I know you think she’s stupid, that she isn’t good enough for me”—Sadie held up her hand when he tried to interrupt—“but she’s smart and she cares and she wants me to be safe, just like you do.”

  He sighed and sat beside her again. This time his arm came around her shoulders, and he pulled her close. “Truthfully, I don’t think anyone would be good enough for you. Fin isn’t so bad. She’s just…rough around the edges.”

  “She’s a great mother and a loving wife. She treats me well, and you should be happy about that.”

  “I am.”

  “But?”

  “I’ll try harder with her. Okay?”

  “You always say that.”

  “This time I mean it. We could have lost you, and I—” He cleared his throat. “Your mother has given me some…points for consideration relating to my behaviour.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “You mean she had a go at you about the way you treat Fin.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Something like that.”

  “It would be nice if the two of you could be civil at least. Especially for Liam and Lucy. They see what goes on.”

  “I know. I’ll try, okay, sweetheart?” He kissed the top of her head and gave her one last squeeze before standing up. “Shall I bring down the case?”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Sadie opened the other suitcase on the bed and continued packing.

  * * *

  Lance Sherry stepped off the ferry and breathed deeply. Home. He adjusted the bag on his shoulders and made his way into the terminal, where he’d booked a seat on a bus back to London. When he first ducked out and went abroad, it was with the intention to stay gone, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. The way she’d dismissed him as unworthy of her time. It grated on him, and if he was honest, Lance Sherry wasn’t used to being told no. Not by a woman, anyway.

  He probably hadn’t been away long enough for the heat to die down, and he was taking a big risk. If he was lucky, he could get in and get back out again before anyone noticed. Except he wasn’t lucky last time. All he could hope for was that he would be able to at least give the bitch what she had coming to her before the police caught up with him.

  Lance Sherry climbed onto the bus and took a seat near the back. He scratched his face, which itched where the beard now grew. He couldn’t wait to shave the bloody thing off.

  Chapter Eight

  Fin stood in the workshop and couldn’t help but smile. The skylights would flood the room with light once she’d cleaned them up, and the large open space was perfect for her work.

  There was a stack of boxes in the corner she would have to shift, but that shouldn’t be hard. The basement would be more difficult because previous owners had stored decades’ worth of junk down there. Boxes and bits of broken furniture littered the place. Fortunately, it was dry, so she wouldn’t be shifting soggy boxes and mouldy furniture. The estate agent gave her the number of a local lad who did odd jobs and would be happy to help. Floyd Dodson. He’d done odd jobs around the place for the previous owners, and his mother was the local childminder.

  The house was perfect for them. It was true Sadie hadn’t fallen in love with it like her, but there was time. It was the sort of place Fin dreamed of living as a kid. The garden was huge, with fields spread out behind. They could get a dog if Sadie was up for it. Fin always wanted a dog. She’d ordered one of those playsets for the kids as a surprise as well. Lucy would love it.

  For the first time, Fin felt a sense of achievement. She’d made this happen for her family. Finola Claiborne—with the pisshead mother and thieving father who did a moonlight flit when she was ten—now had a beautiful barrister wife, two great kids, and her own business. No one would have guessed that for her. And from today, she had the house to go with it all.

  Outside, a car crunched up the gravel drive and stopped in front of the house. Car doors opened and she heard the voices of her children. Lucy was the loudest by far. Fin grinned.

  “We drove past the turn off twice. Hidden away, isn’t it?” Sadie called through the open window.

  “I didn’t have any trouble finding it,” she said, walking out into the sunshine.

  “Mama!” Lucy yelled and charged at her. Fin braced herself for the impact of the three-year-old and swung her up into her arms.

  “You like the place, Lucy-loo?” she asked, looking into brown eyes and brushing at a tangle of thick brown curls, almost golden in the sunlight.

  “Yes! Can we go inside?”

  Liam hadn’t spoken properly until he was almost four, but Lucy was a regular chatterbox. Fin loved that you could have proper conversations with her already—well, as long as the conversations were about unicorns or bugs. She loved hunting for bugs.

  “Liam, you want to go inside?” Fin asked her son.

  His brow was creased in the way Sadie’s did when she wasn’t sure about something. “Okay,” he replied quietly. Fin followed his gaze up to the first floor, as the frown on his little forehead deepened.

  “Then you can help me bring in the stuff from the car,” Sadie said, walking over to kiss Fin on the lips and ruffle Lucy’s hair. “Lucy, how did your hair get so tangled?” she asked.

  “She opens the window all the way in the car and tries to stick her head out like a dog,” Liam supplied.

  “Me not a dog,” Lucy said, letting go of Fin and folding her arms across her chest.

  “I’m not a dog,” Sadie said, ruffling her hair again.

  “Me and Mummy not dogs,” she corrected herself.

  Fin and Liam burst into laughter.

  “Hilarious,” Sadie deadpanned. “Go inside, all of you. Liam gets first pick of the bedrooms, Lucy, okay?”

  “Okay.” Lucy wriggled out of Fin’s arms and ran for the front door. She never seemed to walk anywhere.

  * * *

  Liam looked around his new bedroom. It was bigger than his old room but he didn’t like it any better. He liked their old house, and he didn’t understand why they had to move away. He didn’t want a new start, even though his mum said it would be good for them.

  Liam liked his old school and his old friends and his old house. He didn’t like this house at all. When Mummy stopped the car, he thought he saw a man in the upstairs window. When he got out, the man was gone, and he guessed he’d just imagined it after all. They’d driven past the house two times before Mummy found the entrance. It was like it didn’t want them to find it. Now that he was inside, he got a feeling the house didn’t want them here—especially Mummy. Perhaps the man had been real after all. Maybe he lived here and he didn’t like children.

  Down the hall, a door slammed, and Liam jumped.

  * * *

  Lance Sherry had been watching the house most of the day. No one had come in or gone out. Just his luck, they’d be on holiday. It didn’t matter—he’d wait as long as he needed for the bitch to come home.

  It was afternoon already, and he wanted to get inside before people started coming back from work. Apart from some workmen a few houses down, the street was quiet, and he didn’t think he’d have any t
rouble breaking in unnoticed.

  He crossed the road leisurely and slipped into the passage that ran down between the houses and then along the back of their gardens. Places like these were always the easiest to rob, and he was constantly amazed residents didn’t club together to get gates for the passage entrances. They’d remained in place from the days when people still got coal delivered. The coalman would come down the passage and tip the coal directly into bins or whatever at the bottom of people’s gardens. It was so easy to slip in and out without being noticed.

  Lance turned right at the end of the passage and pushed on the garden gate. It held, but it was flimsy. He put his shoulder into it and popped the bolt out from the other side. Piece of piss.

  He was careful to listen for anyone in the garden. It was unlikely, though possible, someone had gone into the house without him noticing.

  There was no one in the garden, but as he got closer to the house he saw it was empty inside. Shit. The bitch had moved.

  He peered through the kitchen window and saw gaps between the units where appliances should be. They’d definitely gone. He went to the large sash window which opened onto a back reception room and pushed it up. Someone forgot to lock it. That was typical as well. The number of houses he’d gotten into because people forgot to thumb the locks on their windows…

  Lance pushed it all the way open and climbed inside. He’d come this far and might as well have a look about, just in case.

  He walked around downstairs aimlessly, imaging the bitch and her family in the kitchen, eating dinner together. Or watching TV in the living room. Upstairs in the bedroom, he imagined her sleeping, imagined her fucking that other woman she lived with. Now she was sitting in her nice new house, while he couldn’t even go back to his flat because the police were looking for him. It made him angry. All she had to do was fucking represent him at that sham trial—it was her job, after all. Instead she sat there all snooty and told him she couldn’t represent him when she knew he’d committed the crime and wouldn’t plead guilty.