Behind Closed Doors: The gripping debut thriller everyone is raving about (23 page)

I
t’s only when the flight takes off that I begin to relax a little. But I know that even when I arrive in Bangkok, I’ll be looking over my shoulder the whole time. I doubt the feeling of menace will ever leave me; even the fact that Millie is safe at school isn’t enough to allay my fears that Jack will somehow get to us. I had thought to bring her with me, I had wanted to tell Janice that Jack had given Millie his place on the plane and ask her to bring her to the airport. But it’s better that she isn’t involved in what is to come. I’m going to have a hard enough time keeping my nerve; to have to watch over Millie at the same time might prove too much for me. After everything I’ve been through in the last few hours, the slightest thing could make me lose the control I’m trying so hard to maintain. But I remind myself that
there will be time enough to let my mask slip a little when I arrive in Thailand, once I’m behind closed doors.

Going through passport control in Bangkok is a nightmare, the fear of Jack’s hand on my shoulder never greater, although it would have been impossible for him to have got here before me. Even so, I find myself checking the face of the taxi driver before I get into his car to make sure it isn’t Jack sitting behind the wheel.

At the hotel, I’m warmly greeted by Mr Ho, the manager who wrote the letter about me and, when he expresses surprise that I am alone, I express equal surprise that he hasn’t received Mr Angel’s email asking him to look after me until he arrives. Mr Ho tells me he will be delighted to do so and commiserates when I tell him that work commitments have kept my husband from joining me until Wednesday.

I sense the manager hesitate—is it possible, he asks, that my husband, Mr Jack Angel, is the Mr Angel mentioned in some of the English newspapers recently in relation to the Antony Tomasin case? I admit, in strictest confidence, that he and my husband are indeed one and the same, and that we hope we can count on him to be discreet as we would rather nobody knows where we are staying. He tells me that he heard on the international news yesterday that Mr Tomasin was acquitted and, when I confirm that he heard correctly, he says that Mr Angel must have been disappointed. And I tell him that yes, Mr Angel was very disappointed, especially as it was the first time he had lost a case. As Mr Ho signs me in, he
asks me how I’ve been keeping—a delicate nod to my mental state—and if I had a good flight. When I tell him that I found it hard to sleep, he says the least he can do for such a good client as Mr Angel is upgrade us to one of their suites. The relief I feel that I won’t have to go back to the room where I realised I had married a monster is so great I feel like kissing him.

Mr Ho insists on escorting me to my new room himself. It crosses my mind that he might wonder why we always stay in one of the smaller rooms when Jack is such an illustrious lawyer so I make sure to mention that my husband likes to maintain anonymity when we’re on holiday rather than draw attention to himself by throwing money around. I don’t put it quite like that but he gets the gist.

Once Mr Ho has left, I turn the television on and search for Sky News. Even in Asia, the Tomasin verdict is big news and, as they show Antony Tomasin addressing reporters as he came out of court the previous day, Jack appears in the background, besieged by journalists. Unable to watch any longer, I turn the television off quickly. I’m desperate for a shower, but there are two calls I need to make—one to Janice and the other to Jack, to tell them that I’ve arrived safely. Luckily, both are numbers that I know by heart—Jack’s from when I first met him and Janice’s because it’s the most important number in the world. I look at my watch; it’s three in the afternoon local time, which means it’s nine in the morning in England. As the wife of Jack Angel, I make
sure to get my priorities right and call him first. I have a momentary panic when I realise that anytime over the past year, he could have changed his number, so when I get through to his voicemail I feel weak with relief. I take a deep breath to steady myself and leave the sort of message a loving wife would leave, the sort of message I might have left had I been able to carry on living the dream.

‘Hello, darling, it’s me. I know you told me you might not pick up, but I was rather hoping you would—as you can tell, I’m missing you already. But maybe you’re still in bed? Anyway, I’ve arrived safely and guess what? Mr Ho felt so sorry for me being on my own that he’s upgraded us to a better room! Even so, I know I’m going to hate being here without you. Anyway, I hope the press aren’t hounding you too much and that you’re managing to get through all your paperwork. Don’t work too hard and, if you’ve got a minute, please call me back, I’m in room 107, otherwise I’ll try you again later. I love you, bye for now.’

I hang up and dial Janice’s mobile. At this time on a Saturday morning, she and Millie should have finished breakfast and be on their way to the stables for Millie’s riding lesson. When Janice doesn’t answer immediately my heart pounds with fear, in case Jack has somehow managed to get to Millie after all. But eventually she does and, while I speak to her, I remember to mention that Esther and her children will be calling in to see Millie the next day. Then I speak to Millie and just
knowing she is safe, at least for the time being, makes me feel better.

I walk into the bathroom. The shower stands in the corner, concealed behind opaque doors, which means I can’t use it as there is always the possibility, however slight, that I may come out and find Jack standing on the other side of them. I look at the bath and work out that if I leave the door open, as well as that of the bedroom, I’ll be able to see through to the sitting room and, so, the main door. Reassured, I fill the bath, strip off my clothes and lower myself tentatively into the hot water. As it rises up around my shoulders, the tension that engulfed me the moment I heard Jack step into the house at three o’clock the previous afternoon melts away and I begin to cry in huge racking sobs, which tear from my body at an alarming rate.

By the time I manage to pull myself together, the water is so cold I’m shivering. Climbing out, I wrap myself in one of the white towelling robes provided by the hotel and go into the bedroom. I’m desperately hungry, so I pick up the room-service menu. I know I’m going to have to leave my room at some point if I’m to carry on pretending that everything is all right but I can’t, not yet. I order a club sandwich, but, when it arrives, I’m too frightened to open the door, even with the chain on, in case I find Jack standing there. Instead, I call for the tray to be left outside my room, which isn’t much better because there’s still the possibility that he’ll be lurking in the corridor, waiting to bundle me back
inside as soon as I open the door. Finding the courage to open the door wide enough to pull the tray into the room is a major triumph and I wish I’d thought of ordering a bottle of wine along with the sandwich so that I could celebrate. But I remind myself that there will be plenty of time to celebrate later, when it is all over, approximately five days from now, if my calculations are correct. Whether they are or not is something I have no way of knowing. At least, not yet.

When I’ve finished eating, I unpack my case, look at my watch. It’s only five-thirty and because nobody would expect me to go down to dinner alone on my first night in the hotel, I feel justified in staying in my room for the rest of the day. Feeling suddenly exhausted, I lie down on the bed, not really expecting to be able to sleep. But I do and, when I next open my eyes and find that the room is in darkness, I leap out of bed, my heart thumping in my chest, and run around the room, turning on all the lights. I know I’m not going to be able to sleep again for fear of opening my eyes and finding Jack standing over me so I resign myself to spending a long night with only my thoughts for company.

When morning comes, I get dressed, pick up the phone and dial Jack’s number.

‘Hello, darling, I wasn’t really expecting to get you because it’s two in the morning in England so you must be fast asleep, but I thought I’d leave a message for you to listen to when you wake up. I meant to phone you before I went to sleep last night, but I lay down
on the bed at six in the evening and only woke up ten minutes ago, which just goes to show how tired I was! I’m going down to breakfast in a minute but I’ve got no idea how I’m going to spend the rest of the day—I might go for a walk, but I’ll probably just hang around the pool. Will you give me a ring when you wake up? You can always leave a message at the reception if I’m not in my room. I feel an awfully long way away from you—which I am, of course. Anyway, I love you and miss you, don’t forget to phone me.’

I make my way down for breakfast. Mr Ho is on duty. He asks if I slept well and I tell him that I did. He suggests I eat out on the terrace and I cross the lobby, remembering all the times Jack walked me across it on the way to the dining room, his hand gripping my arm tightly while he whispered menaces in my ear.

Once outside, I help myself to fruit and pancakes and find a table in the corner, wondering if anyone else in the world has been as fooled by a man as I was. It seems strange that I’ll never be able to tell anyone what I’ve been through, never be able to tell them about the monster I was married to, not if everything turns out as I hope it will.

I eat slowly, needing to pass the time and, as I eat, I realise that if I crane my neck I can see the balcony of the room on the sixth floor where I spent so many lonely hours. I sit there for over an hour, wishing I’d brought a book with me. Sitting on my own with nothing to distract me might look suspicious, as there
can’t be many people who go on holiday without taking a book with them except those that leave in a hurry. I seem to remember Jack walking me past a second-hand bookshop on our way to take photographs of the two of us having a wonderful time in Bangkok, so I leave the hotel and go in search of it. I find it easily; it’s the sort of place I love, but I feel too conspicuous to linger so I buy a couple of books and return to the hotel, marvelling that I can feel relatively safe in a place that once held such horrors for me.

In my room, I change into a bikini and go down to the pool, arming myself with a book and a towel. As I climb out of the pool after a swim, I notice a couple of men looking in my direction and prepare to tell them, should they decide to come and talk to me, that my husband is arriving in two days’ time. I eke out the time until three o’clock by reading my book and swimming, then leave the terrace and go up to my room where I leave a disappointed message on Jack’s mobile.

‘Jack, it’s me. I was hoping you’d have phoned me by now, but you’re probably still asleep, which can only be a good thing as I’ve been worrying that you’re driving yourself into the ground working twenty-four hours a day. I’ve been at the pool all morning so I’m going to go for a walk now. I’ll phone you when I get back. Love you.’

I wait in my room for an hour or so, then go down to the lobby and, with a quick wave to Mr Ho, who seems to work twenty-four hours a day, go out through
the main doors. I walk around for a while, find myself in a market and spend some time buying silk scarves for Janice and Millie. I buy some postcards, search for a bar, order a non-alcoholic cocktail, read my book, write my cards and wonder how I’m going to be able to fill in the next couple of days.

I head back to the hotel and am immediately cornered by Mr Ho, who wants to know if I’m enjoying myself. I confide that I’m at a bit of a loss without Jack and ask him if I could perhaps book an excursion for the following day. He tells me about an overnight trip to ancient temples that some of the hotel guests are going on and asks me if I would be interested in joining them. It’s the perfect solution, but it’s important that I don’t look too eager so I hum and haw a little and ask when exactly we’d be back, pointing out that Jack is due in on Wednesday morning. He promises that I’ll be back at the hotel on Tuesday evening and, after a bit more hesitation, I let myself be persuaded. I add that because I’m going to have to get up extra early the next morning, I’ll probably just have dinner in my room and he agrees that it’s a good idea. I go up to my room and phone Jack once again.

‘Hello darling, still no message from you so I can’t help wondering if you’ve gone to Esther’s for lunch—she said she’d invite you over at some point. I told her you’d probably be too busy but maybe you needed a break. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to go on an overnight trip to some temples,
leaving early tomorrow morning—Mr Ho suggested it and at least it’ll pass the time until you get here. I hate the thought of not being able to speak to you before Tuesday evening, which will be Tuesday afternoon for you—I’m definitely going to buy a mobile when we get back to England! But I’ll phone you as soon as I get back to the hotel and hopefully catch you before you leave for the airport. I thought I might come and meet you off the flight, I know you said not to, that you’ll make your own way here, but maybe after being apart from me for four days you’ll have changed your mind! I can’t wait to see you, you may as well know that I’m never going away without you again no matter how much work you have. Well, I’d better go and throw a few things together. Remember I love you very much. I’ll speak to you Tuesday. Don’t work too hard!’

The next morning, I go on the trip and attach myself to a lovely middle-aged couple who, when I explain that I’m on my own because I’m waiting for my husband to come out and join me, take me under their wing. I talk to them about Jack and about the brilliant work he does on behalf of battered wives with such conviction that I almost believe it myself. They end up putting two and two together—because they’ve read the papers—and I end up admitting that Jack Angel is indeed my husband. Fortunately, they’re discreet enough not to mention the Tomasin case although I can tell that they’re itching to. Instead, I tell them about Millie, about how much we’re looking forward to her coming to live with us and
how grateful I am to have such a wonderfully accepting husband. I tell them about our house, about Millie’s yellow bedroom and about the party we gave her for her eighteenth birthday, just a few weeks before. By the time we get back to the hotel, later on Tuesday evening than expected, they’ve become firm friends and, as we go off to our rooms, I accept their kind invitation for Jack and me to have dinner with them once he arrives.