What Did You Do?: a gripping psychological thriller with plenty of twists Read online

  “Upper-middle-class? I'm not sure about that, your ladyship," Laurie said. "But regardless. I think you'd do all right for yourself. You're a tough cookie. Even if you won't ever talk to me about your life up north.” His attempt at the accent was even worse than hers.

  “Come on, Laur. You know I don’t like to go there,” she said. “It’s in the past and best left there. And like I’ve told you a million times, there’s nothing really to tell. I had a shitty childhood – got bullied a bit, and then my parents died within two years of each other when I was in my late teens. After that, I moved to London and met you. The rest is history, as they say.”

  “But being bullied, then losing two parents at a young age, that’s got to affect a person. It might help you if you talk about it more.”

  “Do you think I need help?”

  He sighed, realising he’d once more entered a dead-end street. “No, I don’t. I didn’t mean that, but… Never mind.” He narrowed his eyes at his laptop screen. “Shit, it’s almost nine. I need to get going.”

  He stood and snaked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her on the top of her head. It was sort of nice, but sort of annoying. She shoved him away. “I’ve got to do the rounds myself. I didn’t realise the time either. Is Andrew still asleep?”

  Laurie nodded, but he was back staring at the laptop. “Yeah. I’ll get the twins dressed before I leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nadia walked over to the door and picked up the large bag of fresh towels that she’d left there the previous evening. Slinging the heavy load up onto her shoulder, she turned and smiled at her husband.

  “Are you going to be at the office all day?”

  “I shouldn’t think so.” He looked up from the screen and his eyebrows twitched. “Any reason?”

  “Not really. I just don’t feel we’ve spent much time together recently. Maybe we could snuggle up and watch a film tonight, once the kids are asleep.”

  “Yes. I’d like that. I’ll see you later. Have a good day.”

  “And you.” She opened the door and left, giving her hips a bit of sass as she did for good measure. Laurie still professed she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and she believed him in the main, but after fourteen years of marriage and three kids, it was important to give out a little spice when you could.

  She walked alongside the horses’ field, taking in the majestic fillies as they gambolled in the grass, and then down into the bottom paddock – or, rather, Sunrise Meadow, as the hand-painted sign stated - where the two large yurts were situated.

  Nadia had the idea of Elite Glamping five years ago and within just a few months had set up the business and had her first guests booked in. Not bad going, really. Since then, the yurts had been continuously in use and the glamping business had fast taken over the stud farm as her primary source of income. Not that they needed the money - Laurie’s architecture firm brought in more than enough - but she was her parents’ daughter and it would have bothered her a great deal to think of herself as a kept woman. Despite her mother’s traditional Bengali heritage, she’d gone to university and had become a staunch feminist and freethinker. She’d defied her own parents by marrying Nadia’s non-Hindu father and would have hated to think of her daughter being subservient to anyone. But she would have been glad to find her married to a man who loved her and supported her. Because in the end, that was all that was important. Love. Support. Those two things had got Nadia through a lot of bad times over the last twenty years. A lot of bad times.

  No one was in sight as she got up to yurt number one but that didn’t stop her from holding her breath as she walked up the steps to the small decking area that spanned around the side of the yurt and provided enough space for a picnic table and an electric stove. Carefully, she removed one large and one small towel from the bag and placed them on the table. If Mr Jameson was still inside the yurt, he wasn’t making any sound and she didn’t want to risk disturbing him and getting caught up in another awkward conversation.

  She tip-toed down the steps and hurried away, face scrunched up in case she heard his whiny voice calling after her.

  Miss Morgan… one thing….

  Thankfully, she reached yurt number two with no interference, but this time she was almost certain she could hear movement inside the large bell tent.

  Were they…?

  She listened, not daring to go up the steps as the Snowdon’s muffled giggles drifted out from under the canvas. Nadia took two more fresh towels out of the bag and placed them gently on the bottom step before backing away. At least some people were having some fun around here.

  Another job completed. She hoisted the bag up on her shoulder and headed back up to the house. She’d only been walking for a few seconds when she heard a terrible sound coming from the stables. It sounded like the screech of a demon, almost human but not quite. She stopped in her tracks, but her heart felt like it was continuing on its trajectory, trying to burst through her chest. The sickening screeching noise was now accompanied by a loud banging and thumping sound and then a flurry of grunts and neighs.

  It was Tudor. He was in trouble.

  5

  Nadia dropped the bag and ran up to the stables as fast as her legs would carry her. As she passed by the paddock, she glanced over and met Buttercup’s gaze. Her dark eyes were open wider than usual and she was pacing up and down in the way a caged animal in a zoo might do.

  “Don’t worry, girl,” she called over. “He’s all right.”

  Please let him be all right!

  She got up to the main block and entered the stables via the doorway that faced the house. Tudor’s stall was over on the opposite side, in the corner. It was the largest stall in the building and as she got over there, she saw him charging around the space, barging into the walls and flicking his head around like he was possessed.

  “Tudor, darling. Calm down.” She held her hands up as she approached, but her gentle manner did nothing to assuage his disposition.

  She’d never seen him like this before.

  What was going on?

  The old stud could be rather grumpy if he was too hot or hungry, but he was also friendly and lackadaisical most of the time, especially with her. They were friends. She still rode him occasionally. But now he looked at her like he hated her. Like she’d done this to him. He lurched around, banging his flank into the wall and making more noise. In the stable next to him, Heath was watching on, seemingly unmoved by what was happening to his father. Either that or he was terrified. Nadia’s first instinct was to get into the stable with Tudor to try to calm him down, but thankfully reason kicked in and she stopped herself before she did so. It was a bad idea getting into a stable with a fifteen-hundred-pound stallion at the best of times. When he was acting this erratic, it could be the last thing she ever did. One kick from those hind legs and it could be all over. Instead, she climbed up onto the bottom rung of the metal gate and leaned over so he had a better view of her. He was still snorting and grunting like he was in a lot of pain, but he had stopped pacing so much.

  “What is it?” she asked, holding her hand out, giving him the option to come over for a scratch. Tudor liked it when you scratched behind his ears, but today, he was having none of it. He stared at her and bared his teeth as if taken over by madness.

  Nadia puffed out her cheeks. It was awful seeing the poor thing like this.

  What’s wrong, Tudes?

  “It looks like something’s spooked him.”

  Startled, she twisted around to see Mr Jameson standing a few feet away. He was wearing red chinos tucked into black wellington boots and a fawn hunting vest over a navy-coloured turtleneck sweater. The way he was standing, with his arms behind his back and his pointy nose in the air, reminded Nadia of the character of Mole from her childhood copy of The Wind In The Willows.

  “Mr Jameson,” she said. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

  He stared at her and stuck out his round belly, taking the Mole impression to new extremes. “I was passing by on my way out for a walk when I heard the hullabaloo. I’d say something has spooked him.”

  “Yes, thank you. You already said that.” She climbed down from the fence and took a step closer to Mr Jameson. “Did you see anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. A stray dog, maybe?”

  Mr Jameson screwed up his nose. “I’m afraid I didn’t see anything,” he said. “I was over in the field on the other side of the house, entranced by what I thought was a willow tit, when I heard the screams. I came over to investigate. You beat me to it.”

  “I see. Thank you for your concern.” She turned back to Tudor and as he tilted his head to one side, she mirrored him, sticking her bottom lip out the way she did with the twins when they were having a grump. “What is it, my sweet old man?”

  “It wasn’t, by the way,” Mr Jameson muttered.

  She turned back to look at him. “Pardon me?”

  “A willow tit. It wasn’t one. I thought it was, but I was mistaken.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  “It was just a coal tit, unfortunately. They look similar, but are two a penny around here.”

  She closed her eyes. “Well, Mr Jameson, thank you for your help, but I need to get on. And like I say, you really shouldn’t be here. Or up in the back field, come to that. If you wouldn’t mind sticking to Sunrise Meadow and the connecting tracks, that would be great—”

  “Ah, look there. I imagine that was why the poor bugger has got so upset.”

  She opened her eyes to see Mr Jameson pointing into Tudor’s stall, and as she followed the direction of his finger she let out a gasp.

  “Oh, Tudor. No. How did that happen?”

  The larg
e black stallion had turned away from them and she could see there was a deep gash about three inches long above his gaskin on the left-hand side. Against his shiny black coat, the bright red welt appeared more grotesque than it normally would. Poor Tudor. But is it a cut or a tear? Or even a bite?

  Nadia brought her hand up to her mouth as the large stallion turned around to face her. He seemed calmer now and wasn’t stamping or snorting as much, but there was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. They were wild and full of vigour as if the injury had awakened in him a deeper level of instinct. If he’d leapt over the side of the stall and galloped away down the track, she wouldn’t have been surprised. He looked desperate and angry and riddled with mute puzzlement. The injury had spooked him all right.

  Holding eye contact, she took a step forward, raising her hands as she did. They’d trained Tudor well, and he did as he was told most of the time, but creatures like him could never be completely tame. Some people were the same. You could give them a fine home, and provide them with food and luscious surroundings. But after experiencing the evils of the world up close, you were never truly content. You just pretended you were.

  “You need to get the vet to have a look at that.” Mr Jameson had shuffled up alongside her and his words made her jump again.

  “Yes. Thank you. Of course I’m going to speak to the vet,” she said, stepping to one side to put some distance between them. “I’m going to ring him right away.”

  "It looks like someone's had a go at him with a knife if you ask me.”

  But no one is asking you, Mr Jameson!

  “Let’s see what the vet says.” She smiled and waited for the old man to leave, but he didn’t seem to get the message. “And I do have to get on with things,” she added, gesturing at the open doorway behind him. “If you wouldn’t mind vacating the area, that would be very helpful.”

  Mr Jameson nodded sagely and wagged his finger at her. “You know you need to be careful, Miss Morgan.”

  “It’s Mrs Morgan. And what do you mean?” She was losing her patience fast.

  “I mean what I say. You need to be careful. If you take a lot on as you have done, things can slide. You can miss things. You wouldn't want to get messy. That's when accidents happen." He sniffed and rolled his shoulders back. "Anyway, point taken. I'll be going on my walk. Good day.”

  He turned around and sauntered out of the stable block. Nadia walked over to the door and watched as he walked down the track before disappearing around the side of the big oak tree next to the gate.

  “What the hell was all that about?” she whispered to herself.

  An icy shiver ran down her body, dimpling the skin on the backs of her arms.

  That’s when accidents happen…

  Was it just her being paranoid, or did that sound sinister? Was he trying to warn her? Scare her? Or, more likely, was he just a weird old man with dubious social skills? She shook the thoughts away as Tudor whinnied at her.

  “Don’t worry, Tudes,” she told him. “We’ll get you patched up and on the mend in no time.”

  She gave him a lacklustre wave of her hand and then hurried back to the house to make the call.

  6

  The twins were colouring-in at the table and Andrew was watching TV on the couch when Nadia burst into the main living space a few minutes later. She kissed Edward and Emily on their little heads and walked over to the lounge area. The picture on the television screen showed a gaggle of bronzed, good-looking people with overly white teeth and not much on in the way of clothes. If she’d had time to consider it properly, she’d be asking her thirteen-year-old son why he was watching such trash – and perhaps even stopping him from doing so - as it was all she could think about was calling the vet and finding out what had happened to her prized stallion (prized in her eyes at least, to the sperm-buying world, not so much). She marched across the room, casting her gaze around and searching for the house phone or her iPhone. Any phone.

  Where were all the blasted phones?

  “What are you doing?” Andrew grumbled, as she walked over to the couch and began lifting cushions. “Mum! Move, I can’t see.”

  “Have you seen the phone?”

  “Which phone? The house phone is on the table.”

  She shot her head up to peer across the room. True enough, there was the house phone laying in the middle of the dining table in front of Emily. She’d looked there just now, she was certain. Hurrying over to it, she scooped it up and dialled seven, the number she’d pre-programmed for the vet.

  Dr Ralph Simmons had been a semi-regular visitor to the stables ever since the stud farm had opened. He was good at his job, even if Nadia wasn’t a massive fan of the man. He was surly and brusque and despite her being half a foot taller than him, had a knack of looking down his nose at her. In the same way that Mr Jameson did, come to think of it. She narrowed her eyes as she thought of the odd little man and his weird comments from earlier. What had she ever done to him but be an excellent host and show interest whilst he waffled on about bearded tits?

  She gasped as a thought hit her.

  What if it was Mr Jameson who’d hurt Tudor?

  She had no idea why he'd want to. But he could have got into the stable without her seeing and hid before she got there. Only to reappear as if he'd just…

  No! Stop that!

  You’re being paranoid again. It doesn’t help.

  She straightened up and swallowed down her panic as the dial tone chirped in her ear. The phone rang twice before being picked up by Angela, Dr Simmons’ receptionist, who Nadia had always got on well with.

  “Hi, it’s Nadia Morgan, down at Camborne Stables. I was hoping Dr Simmons might pay us a visit this afternoon. It's our stallion, Tudor. He's hurt and needs stitches and maybe some antibiotic shots. I can't tell whether it's a bite or if something has attacked him, but he was frantic a few minutes ago, jumping around like a mad thing. I’m hoping Dr Simmons can calm him down and find out what’s happened.” She was speaking ten to the dozen and had to gulp back a mouthful of air once she was done.

  “Oh, dear,” Angela said, jumping in before Nadia could continue. “The poor old thing. That sounds awful. But I’m afraid Dr Simmons is over in Bodmin presently, delivering a calf. Is the horse still in distress?”

  Nadia glanced at a space on the far wall, which, if the wall wasn’t there, would give her a direct eye-line to the stables. "I managed to calm him a little.” She pulled out a chair from under the table and sat. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve never seen him that way. He was pacing and snorting and lurching around like he didn’t know what to do with himself. That’s why I can’t help but think it’s an animal that has hurt him. A stray dog perhaps.”

  "Okay, well don't worry, Nadia. The second Dr Simmons gets back to the surgery, I'll have him ring you. Is that okay?”

  “Thank you, Angela, I really appreciate it.”

  She hung up and clutched the phone in two hands in front of her. She was shaking, but her mind was suddenly blank. What the bloody hell was going on with her? Was this the dreaded perimenopause? Or did she have early onset dementia?

  “Is Tudor poorly, Mummy?” Emily asked, looking up from her colouring book.

  “Oh. No, baby. He’s fine.” She smiled, feeling a frisson of nervous energy in her stomach. “I LOVE the colour of that dinosaur!”

  “It’s a rainbow dinosaur.”

  “I know! I can see!”

  Still clutching the phone, she got up and shuffled over to the lounge area, slumping into the armchair beside the couch where Andrew was reclining.

  She sat and watched her firstborn for at least five minutes before he finally glanced over at her. When he did, all she got was a sneer.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  "Oh, you do know I exist, then?" He met her question with a tut and an eye roll. It was a standard teenage response, really, but today she couldn't take it. "Other people live in this house, you know, Andrew? Did you hear me on the phone just then? Or maybe all the commotion down at the stables?”