BEFORE I LEFT a gripping psychological thriller full of killer twists Read online

  “Now? You want us to come out with you?” Mary asks, biting her nails again. She is still blinking sleepily.

  “Yes. That was my last night shift for the week, and tomorrow I have a day off. Time to head out and party, girls!” Pearl does a few dance steps round the kitchen. She stops suddenly, “I haven’t forgotten why you’re here, or what you’ve been through, but as far as I can see you need a fresh start. You’re only nineteen, Rubes, and Mary, you’re not much older, are you? You can be whatever you want. But first, jobs, and that’s what we’ll get tonight. Johnnie is a character, but he has a big heart. Up to you what you tell him, and how much, but try to be honest up to a point.”

  “We haven’t brought any clothes for going out,” I say. I don’t want to kill her enthusiasm, but I remember how she wrote to us about glamorous party people, and the pubs and clubs she frequents. “We don’t want to show you up.”

  “No problem. I may not have enough food in the house for a proper feast, but I have plenty of the more important things.” My cousin’s smile shows her dimples. She hands us mugs and plates, and I feel another rush of gratitude.

  Pearl bustles through cupboards in her tiny home, flinging around clothes, makeup, and shoes in a mad high-energy rush. I remember she was always like this at home, and used to drive Aunt Jackie crazy — neat and prim one minute, then chucking herself into one thing after another. Mary and I are obviously her new project.

  We’re ready by seven. Pearl looks amazing in emerald green, with a fitted bodice halter-type top which shows off her figure. Her skirt spills in luscious gauzy nets down to her knees, and her long red hair curls in perfect waves. Green heels, a little silver charm necklace, and a quirky black-and-white elephant bangle finish the outfit perfectly.

  “You look fab,” I tell her and turn to Mary. She’s still looking uncomfortable, but has allowed herself to be made over and looks pretty in a navy blouse and gathered flower-patterned skirt. Her big blue eyes are highlighted with masses of mascara, and her lank blonde hair coaxed into a million curls. Her slightly pinched face and long nose are disguised by big slashes of blusher, and her full lips are bright pink.

  “I look . . . Derek would never let me go like this!” Mary says, staring half terrified, half in awe at her reflection. She darts a worried look at the door, “I keep thinking that he’ll have got my note by now. Do you think he’ll come after us?”

  “Well, assuming you aren’t both total clods, and didn’t leave an address for anyone to follow up on your little goodbye notes, I can’t see how anyone could guess where the hell you are,” Pearl tells us. Her voice softens, “Harder for you than for Rubes at the moment, because you’re actually married to your monster, but we’ll sort that out, don’t worry! Not all men are flakes. Even though you’ve both been through an awful experience, we’ll get through it.”

  They both look at me, and I nod in agreement, shoving the memories into a locked drawer at the back of my mind. I glance quickly in the mirror and for the first time in a while I smile properly. My eyes are blue like Mary’s, but so dark they’re almost black, and my skin is olive. I’ve already picked up a slight tan from the unusually warm spring sunshine. Dark brown hair falls long and straight from a high ponytail, drawing attention to my sharp cheekbones. Mum said once that I’m the image of my dad, who was half-Spanish. He didn’t stick around long enough to meet me.

  I spin around. The dress really is gorgeous. It’s a red, high-necked shift, with long sleeves to cover my arms, and a short skirt to show off my legs. Black flats complete the look, so at least I’ll be able to dance without falling over.

  Pearl tilts my head to brush away a stray hair, and then sighs with pleasure, “You both look so cute. And Rubes, I would die for your lips. That perfect little bow and dimples!” She laughs. ”Time to have some fun, girls!”

  A knock makes us all jump, but Pearl swings the door wide, and a tall blonde woman strides into the room. She’s wearing a stunning blue halter-neck dress, with so many nets underneath that the skirt sticks out like a ballerina’s tutu.

  “Hi, sweetheart! Are you ready? What’s that horrid smell, have you been cooking again? Oh!” She clocks us peering round the door. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.”

  Pearl grabs both our hands and drags us forward, “This is Victoria. We work on the same ward up at the hospital, but she’s a year ahead of me.” She grins. “On the partying and the nursing.”

  “Leave it!” Victoria lights a cigarette and laughs.

  “This is my cousin Ruby, and her friend Mary. They’re coming to live down here, so I thought I might see if Johnnie would take them on.” Pearl accepts a cigarette and offers the packet to me.

  “Thanks.” I lean over as Victoria strikes another match. Her bright green eyes study us through the haze of smoke.

  “Hairdressing? Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” She raises an eyebrow, pursing her scarlet lips.

  “We’ll take what’s on offer. We were both doing teacher-training before, but it was . . .” I glance at Mary. “It was pretty boring.”

  “Suit yourselves,” Victoria says. “Probably pays better than nursing!”

  “Are you saying we made the wrong career move?” Pearl smiles and hands her a beer bottle from a little stash under the sink. She passes one to me, takes another, and offers one to Mary.

  “Not drinking, love?” Victoria asks. Mary shakes her head firmly. Not that we’re big drinkers, but since she got pregnant the smell of certain things makes Mary vomit — alcohol and coffee being two of the worst offenders. Pearl quickly changes the subject.

  I plonk myself down on the couch with Mary, while the other two girls chat on the bed. With four people, the tiny bedsit is full to bursting, but I like it. I feel safe in a crowd, and Victoria is one of those stunning girls whom you could easily just sit and watch. Her blonde hair is smooth and glossy, her eyes are that perfect vivid green and her long slim legs are casually crossed. Delicate silver sandals reveal shiny red-painted toenails, and as she talks, she idly swings one foot in time to a Beatles tune on the radio. She looks like a Vogue model, all big eyes and slim lines.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Mary softly. “Because if you don’t want to go out, I can meet this Johnnie person and I’ll explain that we both need jobs.”

  She leans over and squeezes my hand. “I need to do this too, Rubes. Pearl’s right, it’s like a new beginning. You know, I never went out until we walked to that coffee bar after class. My parents didn’t let me go out after school, and then Derek always said it was better for us to eat together at home.”

  It’s nice to see the new sparkle in her eyes. “We can do this. It’s all going to be all right.” Am I talking to my best friend or myself?

  * * *

  Two hours later and I truly believe it is going to be okay. Better than okay. In fact I’m having a riot. We’ve been to a coffee bar, ‘looked in’ on a private party, and now we’re with a group of about ten of Pearl’s friends, dancing and drinking the night away at another place called Whisky-a-Go-Go. As we arrived, Victoria whispered to me that the owner’s wife was shot dead in a flat above the club, and the place is being run by a doorman while the murder investigation continues. It’s a real scandal. Initially I shiver, despite the heat of the crowd, but soon forget this titbit of gossip. Nothing is going to ruin my first night out.

  It’s crammed. When we got here, there was still just enough room for Mary to sit on the long, low bench seats running round the walls, and there were tables to park our drinks, but now the crowds have arrived, the furniture has been moved and there are so many people that partygoers are pushed against the walls. The music is amazing, with all the latest stuff from the US. I lean against the wall and let the hits flow over me — ‘Walk Like A Man’ and ‘He’s So Fine’ followed by the fab ‘Telstar.’ Perfect.

  The sophisticated chatter bubbles all around. I’ve already been bought three drinks, and despite feeling I have to keep a watchful eye
on Mary, I accept another. My stepdad George could be on another planet. I work hard to keep this feeling of floating happiness, beaming at everyone and accepting random offers of dates — which gets me another drink.

  Pearl appears through the heaving mass of sweaty bodies, shoving her way ruthlessly through the hot crowd and dragging a tall young man by the hand. She pushes us together. “Ruby, this is Johnnie. He runs the hairdressing salon I was telling you about, and if you talk to him really nicely he might even let you start tomorrow!” She’s flushed and fizzing with enthusiasm — the life and soul of every party.

  Before I say a word, another friend grabs her hand and they spin off onto the dance floor in the frenzy of an Elvis hit. My cousin is a great dancer, light on her feet and just clever enough to avoid any steamy embraces. The room is spinning slightly after my last drink. I try to haul my thoughts together and to slice through the haze of laughter, smoke and coloured lights to make a good impression on my potential new boss.

  “Hi, Johnnie. Nice to meet you!” I have to raise my voice to be heard, and lean close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “Pearl says that you and another girl want to work for me. Got any references?” His lazy smile suits his slightly long, elegant face. He is wearing a well-cut suit and has an upper-class accent. He stands out against the men in leather and shirtsleeves, or black suit jackets over T-shirts. He should look old-fashioned, but actually he looks a lot like Paul Newman. More Mod than Rocker, but not really fitting neatly into either gang.

  My heart jumps at the mention of references, but I take a breath. I move closer to make sure he can hear me. “Actually no. We’ve just dropped out of teacher-training college and we want to have some fun in Brighton. But we’ll work bloody hard, and turn up on time every day.” I smile. Too much alcohol makes the blood feel hot in my veins, and the music pumps up my heartbeat. I cross my fingers behind my back.

  Johnnie nods slowly, taking his time to finish his bottle of beer. His slightly feline blue eyes flicker over my face. “Where’s the other girl?”

  I point over to the last remaining benches, where Mary is with some of Pearl’s friends. She’s still sipping water, and her eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but that whole strained, pale, housewife persona has almost vanished. She looks five years younger, and about a foot taller. And she is smiling for once.

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “She’s pregnant. And married. But not for much longer.” Best give it to him straight out, I think. Sooner rather than later, Mary’s condition is going to become obvious. Even though I know our futures could depend on this lazy-looking man, I feel slightly better as he finally grins back at me.

  He flashes a cheeky glance at my stomach. “And you?”

  “Not married, and not pregnant — and not likely to be. But I do have my reasons for wanting a job quickly, and for keeping a job.”

  Johnnie sighs with apparent pleasure. “I sense a bit of scandal. Excellent. I only like to work with really interesting people. Gossip is fine, scandal is good, and if you can work hard and turn up on time . . . I take it you know nothing about hairdressing?”

  “I know Marcel waves went out with the ark,” I tell him, because a large black-haired girl in green is barging past in an effort to get nearer her boyfriend. Her hair might be old-fashioned, but her boyfriend has his nose level with her impressive cleavage, and doesn’t seem to have any complaints.

  Johnnie’s catlike face registers real amusement. His lips turn upwards and his eyes narrow to show a fan of fine lines in his tanned skin. He flicks his cigarette away with long, elegant fingers, grinding it carefully underfoot. I wonder for a split second if I’ve blown it. I’m actually just copying something Victoria said when she saw the girl earlier, and surely Victoria wouldn’t be wrong about a hairstyle.

  Then he bursts out laughing, “Darling!” Again the exaggerated, lazy upper-class accent. “I love you already. Especially with those luscious popping lips! Be at mine at eight tomorrow with your scandalous little friend, and I’ll sort out the paperwork. We start the proper work at nine. Four months’ trial to see if you actually like it, and then you can start your apprenticeships for real.” Another man calls him away, and he flutters a hand in farewell, before disappearing into the painted crowds.

  Stunned and exhilarated, I make my way over to Mary, dodging dancers, smiling at everyone, and bend down to shout in her ear. “Guess what? We start our new jobs tomorrow morning!”

  Her mouth opens in a classic ‘O’ of surprise, and I laugh. She immediately starts asking questions but I can’t hear any of them because someone has turned the volume up, and the room is going crazy. Pearl swoops down on us, dragging both of us out to dance, and we join the sweaty, smoky crowds, swaying to the beat. I want to remember this moment for ever. I’m nineteen, in Brighton, just got my first real job and I’m out with the party girls.

  * * *

  By the time we leave the club we’re down to just seven of us. Pearl leads the way, holding hands with a pretty wild-haired brunette called Linda. Mary, Victoria and I straggle along with a couple of good-looking boys, who tease us about joining Pearl’s ‘gang,’ and tell us stories about wild nights out, where apparently everyone ends up making out on the beach.

  Pearl takes it pretty well, occasionally turning to tell them to shut up when their tales get too risqué. The night is warm, and we’re all sweaty from the dance floor, with glistening foreheads and cheekbones. I can feel damp patches under my arms and I really hope it doesn’t show. I jam my elbows into my ribs just in case.

  The other girls peel off their cardigans, and we kick off our shoes to walk barefoot on the stony road. We pass a huge clock tower and jumbled rows of houses, shops, and coffee bars, all cloaked in darkness. The balmy black shadows mingle with the heat of the town, and I can’t stop smiling. I shake my hair free from its elegant ponytail, dancing a few steps down the road.

  Kenny laughs, taking my hand to spin me around and around. He is the shorter of the two boys, with a clean-shaven innocence and flopping, slightly-too-long black hair that contrasts with his stocky muscular figure and boxer’s nose. His hand is sweaty and sticks to my palm, but his grey eyes are kind and bright with fun.

  It feels special to be out at this time, to be out free and barefoot when everyone else is asleep, finding our way by the buttery glow of tall streetlamps and the pale wash of the moon. Last night, as we walked up from the seafront to Pearl’s bedsit, I felt out of place, terrified, and worn down by everything we had been through. Tonight, I belong. This is my home, and this is my new life. I say that to Mary, as we wander along, arm in arm.

  “How many drinks did you say you’ve had?” she laughs, squeezing me close as I ramble on about our new home.

  I take in the maze of roads, and the tall embellished buildings. A new town and a new life. Scanning the empty streets, which spin slightly after all that beer, I spy just a few shadowy figures walking home after a night out, and a stray cat slinking along a high wall. No bulky male figure waiting to yell at me for being late, no jobs waiting, and no bruised parent to be patched up. This is what happiness feels like.

  “Where are you going now? This is the wrong way!” Victoria calls to Pearl suddenly, as we make our way through a muddle of back streets, stumbling slightly on uneven flagstones.

  “Mary and Rube’s first night out. We need to head down to the beach and finish off with a swim!”

  “Down Ship Street?” Victoria frowns, pausing to look at a street sign.

  “How much have you had? If we cut down Dukes Lane it’s the quickest route from here!” Pearl dances on ahead for a moment.

  “Swimming? No way!” Kenny waves his hands in protest, and pretends to run away. Victoria and Pearl promptly put their arms round his waist and start to drag him along. He’s laughing so much, he can hardly walk.

  “I’m going to head home if that’s what you’re planning — you know I can’t swim. You go and enjoy your fre
ezing dip,” Linda says, smoothing her silky dress. The other man in our group, Ted, offers to walk with her, ignoring Kenny’s and Victoria’s screams and whistles.

  “She doesn’t fancy you, Ted, you’re never going to get in there!” Kenny yells, but Ted makes a rude gesture, and offers Linda his hand.

  She winks, and takes it. “Of course he isn’t, but I like a good-looking man to walk me home. See you tomorrow night, crazy people!”

  The pair turn quickly into a back street. Linda’s pink dress is a flash of vivid colour under the streetlight, and her nut-brown curly hair bounces on her shoulders. Ted’s slightly high voice floats back on the breeze as he chatters away, his hair golden in the moonlight.

  Pearl shakes her head. “I would love it if those two finally got together, but much as I adore little Ted, he’s not the catch of the century, is he?”

  “Great dancer, though.” Victoria hums a tune under her breath, swinging Kenny’s arm in time to the beat.

  Pearl begins to plan tomorrow night out loud as we wander down the hill, suggesting various parties and bars, which of course I’ve never heard of. Victoria and Kenny gossip about various relationships they have both had, argue whether sex is better if you’re a man or a woman, and debate whether you should go all the way before you get married.

  “Are we really going for a swim?” Mary asks nervously, stepping round a pile of broken wooden crates. She winces as her bare foot hits a sharp stone.

  “Only if you can! If you can’t swim, then just paddle on the edge. It’s really warm tonight, and I promise the sea at night is the most beautiful way to end your first evening,” Pearl says, swinging her purse as she walks and jumping cracks in the road like a little girl.

  I move nearer the buildings to avoid a parked car and my bare feet slip in a wet patch. Yuck, it must be vomit or spilt alcohol. I recover my balance and look down. The oily liquid oozing across the stone is dark and slick, and my feet are stained red in the moonlight.

  “Ruby?”

  For a moment I can’t breathe, although my heart is slamming against my chest so hard I think I might pass out. I put a hand down to check, and my fingertips come away spotted with scarlet. The others are clustered around now, exclaiming over the pool of blood and wrapping gentle arms around my shoulders, but I’m out on my own, drowning in memories. Is it possible for the dead to come back? All traces of my alcohol-blurred high are gone, and I’m icy cold and sober — with blood on my hands.