The Ex: A Nerve-Shredding Domestic Thriller Read online

  The Ex

  M I Hattersley

  Dark Corridor Books

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  1

  It was one of those evenings that got dark in an instant; the day turning to night before anyone realised. When Lucy Meadows had last looked up from her work, bright sunshine shone in through the office windows, but now those same windows were inky black squares and the only light in the office came via the blue glow from her computer screen and the ones belonging to John and Paula. She sat back in her chair and stretched her arms up over her head.

  “When did it get so dark?” she said.

  John raised his head but didn’t take his eyes off his screen or his hand from his mouse. “The nights are drawing in, my dear,” he bellowed, in a dramatic voice. “Winter is just around the corner.”

  “All right, babe,” Lucy replied. “Let’s keep it light.”

  John glanced over at her with a smirk. “Just saying. Babe.”

  Lucy shot him a grin. She called everyone ‘babe’ these days, but it was a relatively recent addition to her vocabulary and symptomatic of living in East London. And of working in the media. Back when she first moved here and caught herself saying it, she’d cringe a little, but now she hardly noticed. And with the number of new people she’d been meeting with lately, it meant she didn’t have to expend extraneous bandwidth remembering everyone’s names.

  She pushed back from her desk and scanned the room. She liked the ambience created by the low glow of the computer screens. It made the sparse office space look more impressive than it was and as though the work they were doing was of the utmost importance. So engrossed were they in what they were doing, they didn’t even have the time to walk over to the light switch. It would also save them money in electric rates, which, as a new design company struggling to hold their own against all the other design companies here in Hoxton, East London, was always a good thing.

  Lucy lifted her phone to her face and it lit up to show the time was four minutes after seven. She also saw she’d got a message. A thumbs-up emoji and the words,

  See you there. Looking forward to it!

  No kisses, but that was okay. People used so many kisses in texts these days that they’d lost all meaning. She liked it when guys didn’t type out ‘xs’ like they were going out of fashion. Because it meant when they did, they were more significant.

  Not that Lucy had much to go on relative to this theory. Over the last few years, she could count on two fingers the number of guys who’d sent her romantic texts of any kind, with kisses or not. But that was her decision. She’d been putting all her energy into starting Blue Fish Design. She knew that, if they were to make a strong go of it, there wasn’t time for romantic trysts or worrying if someone was going to text back or not. Those matters were trivial compared to the reality of keeping their heads above water as a new company in an already saturated industry. But they were making it work. Things were finally happening. As of a few hours ago, Lucy had signed her fifth client this month. A big job, too. A full rebrand, including logo and website design for a juice bar and wellbeing company based in East Finchley. It would bring in a lot of money to the agency and finally ease them out of the red with the banks.

  So, she deserved a little celebration, didn’t she?

  Things were going well.

  She placed her phone down, resisting the urge to text back. It was now 7.10 p.m. She had hoped to go home and freshen up prior to the date, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Thankfully, she’d foreseen this eventuality and dressed this morning in her good jeans and a nice top. And besides, this wasn’t a date, it was just old friends meeting for a drink. No kisses. No romance. Just a thumbs-up emoji and a catch-up.

  Still, as Lucy put her iMac to sleep and rolled her chair out from under her desk, she couldn’t help but feel a brief pang of excitement. Maybe it showed on her face because as she looked over, Paula was watching her with a half-smile-half-smirk dancing across her lips.

  “Are you getting off?” she asked.

  Lucy shrugged. “Yeah. Can’t be arsed, really.” She stood up and stretched her back. “I’ve said I would though, so...”

  Paula nodded knowingly and shot her a wink. “Of course. Have a good time, won’t you? Where are you meeting him?”

  “The White Lion, near Hoxton Square.”

  At this, John looked up from his screen. Whether this was out of interest in Lucy's evening plans or the mention of a pub, she wasn't sure, but she suspected the latter.

  “Well done for today,” he said. “You stormed that meeting.”

  Lucy grabbed her coat from the back of her chair, trying to hide the grin spreading across her face. She had stormed that meeting. She'd smashed it out of the park.

  “And be careful,” Paula said, lowering her chin to regard her over the top of her oversized glasses. “I know he’s an old flame and all that, but he’s still a man. And you haven’t seen him for what – six years?”

  “Nearly seven.”

  “Yeah, so, people change. They grow up. They get more confident and solidified in their ideas about who they are, what they think they deserve. I know you said he’s a nice guy, but nice guys can turn into pricks if they watch enough of the wrong YouTube videos.”

  John chuckled at Paula’s statement. “Not everyone’s as paranoid or down on men as you are, Pauls.” He sat back in his chair and grinned at Lucy. “Have a good time. See you tomorrow.”

  Paula sighed. “Whatever, Trevor. But yeah, Luce, have fun. Be safe.” She waved her away. “And well done for today, seriously. You should be buzzing. We both are.”

  "Thanks, babe," Lucy said, heading for the door. "And don't work too late, yeah? We're getting there. We don't want to burn out."

  Her two partners waved her away and returned to their respective screens. Lucy watched them from the doorway a moment, smiling to herself as she surveyed the office of the agency she'd helped create. Then she turned and pushed through the door. A few blocks away there was a large glass of wine with her name on it and she damn well deserved it.

  The White Lion was a ten-minute walk from the Blue Fish Agency. She walked down Bateman’s Row, past the London College of Fashion, and then took a right onto Curtain Road. The streets around Shoreditch and Hoxton seemed unusually quiet, but it was only a Tuesday night and early. She glanced at her phone, now almost twenty past seven. They’d arranged to meet at 7:15 p.m, but that was okay. It was a girl’s prerogative to be a few minutes late. She didn’t want to seem too keen. It wasn’t a date, after all, just a few catch-up drinks.

  The air was cool but welcoming on her skin as she shoved her hands in her coat pockets and quickened her pace. Behind her she could hear footsteps, someone walking almost in time with her. At the corner of Old Street, she stopped and was surprised to hear the footsteps stop as well, almost in unison. She moved against the side of the nearest building and took out her phone, pretending to read a text and throwing her gaze down the street behind her.

  Idiot.

  There was no one there. Whoever it was had probably cut down a side street or had gone into one of the many bars or eating places that lay along this strip of road.

  She carried on, heading across Old Street and up towards Hoxton Square. But as she passed alongside the old courthouse building, she heard footsteps again, quicker now, but so were her own. They were still matching her step for step. It could have been a man, but her instincts told her it was a woman. Not as worrying perhaps, but still weird. When she stopped, they stopped, and this time Lucy didn’t wait to shoot a look over her shoulder. A dark figure stood on the street corner on the other side of the road, silhouetted against the brightly lit front of a tapas restaurant. They were wearing a long coat and had their hood up, shrouding their face. Although they weren't looking directly at Lucy, she felt a quiver of panic all the same. Under the large coat, they were probably of average height and build, so it was hard to tell what gender they were. But as she watched, they turned around and walked the other way, heading towards Old Street Station.

  Lucy blew out her cheeks. “Stupid cow,” she muttered to herself.

  This was Paula’s fault, filling her head with paranoid thoughts. That and the fact she’d been working herself too hard and her nerves were shot to pieces. But that’s all it was. No one was following her. Across the street, she saw a couple walking towards her. The man had his arm around the girl and the two of them were laughing at a shared joke. Up ahead, two men with long hair were vaping outside a kebab shop. It was fine. She was around people. No one was going to drag her into some dark alley and strangle her. Lucy turned on her heels and with a renewed focus, hurried up Hoxton Street towards the White Lion.

  The old pub looked so welcoming standing on the corner, that by the time she got up to the door and heard the dull throb of noise coming from inside, she'd put all thoughts of being followed by shadowy figures behind her. As she got through the door, she saw him sitting in a booth towards the rear of the bar. His hair was shorter and neater than the last time she’d seen him, but other than that, he looked the same as he always had. Those same
blue eyes. As she walked over, he stood up and threw his arms wide. “Wow, Lou. You look great. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  She smiled. “Babe, stop it. But same to you.”

  They stared at each other. It felt longer than six years. “I got you a Pinot,” he said, gesturing at the large glass of wine on the table. “Is it still your favourite? Sorry, I should have waited, but I got here early and—”

  “It’s fine,” she told him. “Thank you.”

  They sat down and she pulled the wine towards her. It wasn’t her favourite. Not anymore. Lucy liked to think her sensibilities and taste for the finer things in life had grown since university and these days she’d have gone for a red given a choice. A nice Malbec. Something like that. But in pubs like the White Lion, Pinot Grigio was probably a safe bet. She took a big gulp. It was ice cold and tasted of melon and freedom.

  “So, babe,” she said, regarding him with narrow eyes. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since we last saw each other.”

  For the next half hour, they talked non-stop, reminiscing about their time together at Oxford, discussing mutual friends and acquaintances, laughing at - and getting rather nostalgic over - past events, and generally filling each other in on what they'd been doing since leaving university. He'd done so well for himself that she was a little wary of telling him about her own work. But he seemed genuinely interested, and even excited, as she told him about starting her design agency in the heart of London.

  “That’s awesome. Really awesome.” He looked into his drink (a whiskey and coke the same as always) and when he looked back there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “It is great to see you, you know. It’s been far too long.”

  “I agree.” She surprised herself by letting out a giggle and coughed to cover it. “I am sorry though… about everything that happened. I’m glad we can still be friends.”

  His smile grew wider and his presence warmer. “We were young. All water under the bridge.” He finished his drink and hit her with an intense stare. “Do you ever wonder, though? Whether we made the wrong decision all those years ago?”

  She swallowed, hoping the fluttering in her belly didn't register on her face. "About me and you?"

  He shrugged. “Yeah. What if we’d stayed together? Where do you think we’d be now? Married? Kids?”

  “Jesus, babe,” she scoffed. “I bloody hope not. I’m not ready for kids just yet.”

  “Fair enough, but you know what I mean.”

  She smiled, unable to draw herself away from the tractor beam pull of his eyes. “I do know what you mean. And who knows? But I am glad you got in touch. Very glad.”

  He nodded and so did she, both of them perhaps sensing the heavy subtext in the air. He pointed at her now empty glass. “Same again?”

  “What?” She sat upright. “Oh, no, babe. I’ll get these.”

  But he was already standing over her, holding his hand out for her glass. "It's fine. I want to. Another Pinot?"

  She flashed her eyes at him and handed over the glass. “Go on then.”

  He took the glass and headed for the bar, weaving through the crowds of people who now occupied the space. She’d been so engrossed in their conversation that she hadn’t noticed the pub filling up, but now she did she was aware of the noise as well. For a Tuesday night, it was certainly busy.

  Twisting around, she could see the back of his head as he waited to be served. For such a busy pub, he’d managed to get to the front of the queue rather fast. But that didn’t surprise her. He was tall, handsome, forthright. He’d always been a bit that way, but he seemed to have very much stepped into his power over the last six years. She giggled to herself, dumbfounded at the crazy thoughts running through her head. Could this be the start of something? Could she see herself with him again, after all these years? Glancing down at the table, she saw she’d shredded a beer mat into fine confetti and quickly brushed the pile onto the floor. Not a moment too soon either, as he appeared through the crowds.

  “That was quick,” she said, as he placed the drinks down in front of her.

  “Yeah, I don’t mess around.” He glanced back. “Listen, can you excuse me? I just need to go to the bathroom.”

  “You are excused,” she replied, bowing her head majestically. “But hurry back, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  As he left her alone, she closed her eyes and let her shoulders relax. She had been a little apprehensive about meeting up again after so long, but it was going better than she’d imagined. A lot better. Hell, maybe there still was something there between them. Something she’d like to explore.

  “Ooh, shit, do you mind if I perch here?”

  She opened her eyes to see a woman sitting opposite her. “Oh? Erm. Someone is sitting there.”

  The woman was about her age and was slim, bordering on skinny, with long dark hair parted down the middle. She might have been good-looking if her face wasn’t all screwed up in a tight grimace. “It’s okay, I’m not nicking his seat,” she said. “I just need to sort my shoe out.”

  “Ah okay. No worries.”

  The woman leaned forward and rummaged around under the table for a few seconds before straightening up. “That’s better,” she said. “Must have got a stone in there or something.”

  "Argh, nightmare."

  The woman stared at her. “That your boyfriend, is it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The man you’re with. Is he your boyfriend?”

  Lucy sniffed, a little thrown by the woman’s directness. “No. He’s not. We used to go out, but a long time ago.”

  “I see. Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t let him go a second time. Looks like a real catch, if you ask me.”

  Lucy frowned and picked up her glass of wine. She took a big gulp. “Maybe he is a catch, but I’m too busy for a relationship. I’ve got an empire to build.”

  “Is that right?” The woman got to her feet and laughed. “Well, good for you. You have a good night, anyway.”

  “Yeah, babe. You too.”

  The woman sauntered away, lost quickly amongst the crowd and Lucy returned her focus to her glass of wine. But as she moved her head, her vision blurred and warped.

  What the…?

  She shook her head, opening her eyes wide to focus, but it didn’t do any good. She glanced around the pub. There was a fuzzy aura around everything and when she moved her head from side to side, the light fittings in the walls had trails. She sucked back a sharp breath; her heart rate quickening as she became more disorientated.

  What was going on?

  Grabbing hold of the table, she pulled herself to her feet. The room spun as she did. Damn it. It was her own fault. She'd not eaten since this morning and even then, she'd only had a yoghurt and a small apple. Drinking wine on an empty stomach always made her woozy. She needed to eat. That was it. Pushing through the crowds, she headed towards the door, hoping that fresh air would sort her out.

  The cool breeze felt good on her skin as she stepped out onto the street, but her vision was still hazy and her arms and legs felt heavy. She walked a little way from the entrance, holding onto the side of the building to steady herself and pulling in more deep breaths.

  “Hey, you all right?”

  She spun around to see the woman from the pub. She moved towards her. “You look dreadful.”

  “No. I’m fine.” That’s what she tried to say at least, but it sounded more like a slurred grunt. She tried again. “I just need some air. Drinking on an empty stomach. Silly of me.”

  The woman frowned. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” She continued to watch her with a concerned expression and, feeling self-conscious, Lucy stumbled away. In a few steps, she found herself in the alleyway that ran down the side of the pub. It was dark here and the ground uneven. It also stunk of stale urine. She reached out to the side of her, searching for a wall, something to lean against, but found nothing. She stumbled over as a powerful wave of dizziness spun the world on its axis.

  “Careful there,” a voice boomed in her ear. It sounded slowed down and like it was coming from a different room. A different time.