Look Behind You by Sibel Hodge Page B

table and looks at me with concern. ‘Will you really be OK?’
    I feign a smile and say as convincingly as possible, ‘Yes. I’ll be fine.’
    ‘I’ll call you later from work to check up on you.’ And the way he says it sounds like a threat.
    I bring the mug to my lips so I don’t have to speak.
    When I hear the front door shutting, I pull the covers back and hastily grab the first thing I see in the wardrobe—a yellow sundress with red flowers. The early summer means the morning is already full of promising heat.
    Downstairs, I make another cup of tea, strong and bitter. I pop two slices of toast in the toaster, and as I’m waiting for it to brown, I take butter from the fridge and grab a knife. I carry my breakfast to the kitchen table and take a bite, staring out into the garden. No one is there, but it doesn’t make the fear go away. It oozes out of my pores like a cold sweat.
    Trying to swallow the toast is like swallowing sandpaper. I wash it down with mouthfuls of tea so hot I burn my throat. I have to eat, though. It won’t help me to collapse from weakness. I have to be strong. Have to be competent, methodical, in-control-of-my-life Chloe.
    I finish the toast and leave the plate on the kitchen side. Liam would hate that. He can’t stand clutter or mess. He’d want it put straight in the dishwasher out of sight. Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I leave it there in all its messy glory, pick up the phone from the base unit in the kitchen, and dial Sara’s number as I pace up and down. It rings mockingly in my ear before cutting off. I try again. And again.
    Where is she?
    DI Summers. He might have got hold of her already. What did I do with his card?
    It’s then I realize Liam took it when Summers gave it to me. He put it in the pocket of his suit jacket, but I don’t remember which one he was wearing. There was too much going on. Too many horrible skeletons jumping out of my closet.
    I go into our bedroom and slide open the mirrored door to his side of the wardrobe. All his suits are lined up in a colour-coordinated fashion. Black ones to the left, charcoal next, then light grey, and blue. His shirts are the same. Ties hang neatly on a metal tie rack. His shoes on a shelf at the bottom, all polished and shiny.
    One by one, I check his pockets for the card until I touch something. I pull it out. It’s a piece of paper. A credit card receipt in Liam’s name. It’s dated twenty-first of March for a hotel in Welwyn. One double room. I stare at it until my eyes water, a cold shiver sliding up my spine.
    So, two days before his birthday party, Liam had stayed in a hotel in a village a few miles away, but he’d told me he was going up to Scotland then. I distinctly remember, because I was worried he wouldn’t make it back in time for the celebrations. He assured me he would, said it was only a quick overnight trip to sort out some problems that had cropped up with the diabetes drug. But he’d lied. Again. I wonder what else he’s lied to me about.
    I go through the other jacket pockets and find Summers’ card in the last one, along with something else. Another receipt. This time for a white gold and diamond heart-shaped locket, costing twelve-hundred pounds. It’s dated twenty-second of April. I finger the piece of paper. Who did he buy it for? Was it a gift for me to cheer me up, or was it for someone else?
    I stride across the room to my dressing table. My jewellery box sits on top. It’s one of those I always wanted as a child but never had, the kind with a ballerina that spins around to a melody when you open it. Liam bought it for me shortly after we first met when I saw it in a department store.
    I lift the lid and root through. There’s some costume jewellery, the gold bracelet Liam bought me for our first wedding anniversary, and a ring with a stone missing. Odds and sods I’ve never got round to throwing away. The silver necklace with a turquoise pendant Liam bought me on