The Guest

by Lorraine Mace

Genres: Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

YOUR PAST HAS COME KNOCKING. WILL YOU LET IT IN?

Lynda Blackthorn is still reeling from the tragic car crash that killed her family more than a year ago. Throwing herself into her volunteer charity work, she is trying to piece her life back together.

When she's asked to be the face of the charity's annual fundraiser, an appeal for volunteers on the local news brings old friend Sarah to her door - and the events of fourteen years ago crashing down around her.

As the two women reconnect, Lynda invites Sarah to stay in her guest bedroom. But soon strange things start happening and Lynda learns it might have been better to keep the door to the past firmly closed . . .

A gripping rollercoaster of a read about the darker side of friendship, with a shocking twist. Perfect for fans of Rona Halsall, K. L. Slater and Miranda Rijks.

Release date: April 27, 2023

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 336

Sample

Lynda looked at the Christmas tree, intending to count to ten, but she only got as far as five before exploding.

‘Jason! You’ve moved the baubles around.’

He came out from the kitchen, his face wearing that nervous look she had come to hate. Even though she knew she was being unreasonable, she couldn’t stop herself from screeching at him.

‘You’ve moved stuff on the tree.’

‘Honey, I swear I haven’t touched it. The tree is exactly as you left it last night.’

‘No, it isn’t. Don’t try and make me look stupid,’ she said. ‘That bauble’s lower than it was. It’s hanging much too close to the lights and that’s not where I placed it and you know it.’

‘No, I don’t know it. The weight of the ornaments has probably pulled down the branch a bit and it just looks different. That’s all. Come through to the kitchen. I’m making pancakes.’

Lynda wanted nothing more than to go with him, but something held her back. ‘You go ahead and enjoy your breakfast. I need to fix the tree.’

As she said the words, she could hear the accusation in her voice. I need to fix the tree you messed up!

‘The tree doesn’t need fixing,’ he said. ‘It looks perfect just as it is. Come on, Lynda, lighten up. It’s just a bloody tree.’

‘Is that all it is for you? Just a tree? It’s our first Christmas living together and I’m trying to make it perfect, but all you can say is that it’s just a tree.’

He walked towards her with his arms held out. ‘Lynda, we don’t need the perfect Christmas, the perfect tree, or the perfect anything for that matter. We have each other. Isn’t that enough?’

She nodded and walked forward for a hug. ‘You’re right. I know I get a bit OCD, but I just want to make our first Christmas together really special.’

She felt his arms tighten as he kissed the top of her head. ‘I know, but you have to stop trying so hard, Lynda.’ He sighed. ‘I sometimes feel as though everything I do is irritating you, or making you angry. I don’t know how much longer . . .’

‘How much longer what?’ she said, pulling away and looking up at him.

‘Let’s sit down,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’

She followed him to the sofa and sat next to him. He reached out and took hold of her hand. The hurt look on his face broke her heart. She knew she’d put it there with her constant need to have everything just so, but he used to be able to understand that she couldn’t help herself. When they lived apart, he said he found her OCD tendencies quirky and loved her even more when she went through one of her rituals, like having to put her mug in exactly the right spot on the work surface when making a cup of tea. The order was critical as well – sweetener, tea bag, milk and only then the hot water, which had to be poured the second it came up to the boil. Now that they were living together, though, he didn’t seem to feel like that any more when she insisted things had to happen in a certain way. She knew she was too quick to find fault with the way he did things.

‘This isn’t easy to come out with,’ he said, ‘but I’m wondering if we should have a bit of time apart after Christmas.’

‘You don’t want to be with me any more?’ she asked, a lump in her throat making the words come out in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.

‘I want to be with you, but I think you need to get help, and it might be better for both of us if we lived apart while that happens.’

‘What sort of help? And why would we need to live apart?’

‘You want the truth? It’s because I can’t go on like this,’ he whispered. ‘I’m struggling to deal with your constant rituals, your non-stop straightening of things that aren’t even remotely crooked, and the accusations that I’ve moved things when I haven’t. The ornaments on the Christmas tree are exactly where you left them, but I could see by the way you looked at me that you’re convinced I moved them just to mess with your mind. I love you, Lynda, but I can’t go on like this.’

‘I don’t always accuse you. It’s not fair to say that. Besides, sometimes you do put stuff where it doesn’t belong. You know I need everything to be in its place. I don’t like change.’

‘I understand that,’ Jason said, ‘but I live here too and even if I have shifted something slightly it’s not a crime. You make it sound as if I were deliberately trying to make your life a misery. You need to get professional help. I just think maybe giving you a bit of space will make it easier for you.’

‘Have you found someone else?’ she asked, trying to work out when he would have the time to cheat on her. Apart from going to work, they spent all their time together.

‘No, of course I haven’t found anyone else. You’re the only one for me, but from the day I moved in here, you seem to be even more fixated on your rituals. I thought we could live together and I could help you, but I think I’m making you worse. I know it was hard for you after . . .’

‘After what?’ she demanded, but knew what he was going to say before a word had left his lips.

‘It’s been nearly a year since . . .’

‘Don’t you say it! Don’t you dare bring my family into this!’

‘Lynda, I know you’re hurting and I would do anything to take away the pain if I could, but ever since the car crash, you’ve changed. I feel like I’m not allowed to breathe in case I blow something out of alignment. You never used to be this . . .’

‘This what? Why don’t you ever finish a sentence?’

‘Because you twist whatever I say to make it sound like I’m having a go at you!’

She took a deep breath. ‘OK, I promise not to flare up. I never used to be so . . . what? Come on, you can say it.’

Jason reached for her hand. ‘Neurotic. You never used to be so neurotic.’

She snatched her hand away. ‘I am not neurotic! How dare you say that?’

‘The way you’ve just reacted proves my point. Lynda, I am so tired of the way we are. Please, please won’t you get some help? Let’s get Christmas out of the way and then I’ll help you find the right therapist. If he or she thinks staying together is in your best interest then that’s what we’ll do, but I’m finding it hard not to react when you accuse me of stuff I haven’t done.’

‘Fuck you!’ she said, standing up and moving to the far side of the room. ‘If I’m so hard to live with, why don’t you leave now? Why wait until after Christmas? Who the hell are you to say whether or not I need therapy?’

Jason heaved himself to his feet. Lynda could see the concern on his face, but instead of softening the way she felt, it added fuel to her burning sense of injustice. Why couldn’t he understand what she was going through?

‘Don’t be like this,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘I love you.’

‘Really? You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Tell you what, Jason, pack your bags and get out now. I’ll be so much happier on my own than with you moaning about every little thing I do.’

Jason shook his head. ‘I’m not going to leave you alone over Christmas.’

‘I’m not a charity case,’ she said. ‘I can manage perfectly well on my own. I don’t need you here. Actually, I don’t want you here. Go on, get your belongings and get out. Enjoy your big family Christmas without me there to ruin everything. I didn’t want to spend the day with your stupid boring family anyway.’

It was a cheap shot and she knew it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘Yes, you did,’ he said, his face like stone. ‘You’ve made it very clear that you don’t like my family. I don’t know why, because they’ve never been anything but nice to you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to spend a second with them. I’m going. I’ll be back at the weekend for my stuff. I can’t live with you like this. If you just got some help, I’d be here for you, but you won’t even admit you need it. I can’t keep fighting like this.’

Ashamed of what she’d said about his family, she hung her head, but as she did so her gaze fell on the running shoes he’d left lying around, just as he always did. She had a special rack next to the front door to keep their trainers nice and tidy, but would Jason use it? Oh no, he’d come into the lounge, take his running shoes off and leave them next to the chair until he needed them again. She picked one up.

‘This is one of the reasons we fight, Jason. You leave your stuff lying around all over the place. Running shoes belong in the hallway, not in the middle of the lounge.’

He ducked as the shoe sailed across the room, just missing his head. The shoe landed against the wall, bounced off and slid onto the coffee table, knocking off the mug Jason had left there from the night before. She picked up the other shoe, ready to launch it, but he held up his hand. She had never seen him look so sad.

‘No, Lynda, that’s not why we fight, but until you realise the real reason we do, you are never going to get better. I’ll find somewhere to stay for a few days. I’ll be back for my stuff. You don’t need to put up with me any longer.’

He left the lounge and she heard him in the bedroom, opening and closing doors and cupboards. More than anything, she wanted to run in there and beg him to stay, but her pride kept her fixed to the spot. If he couldn’t cope with her as she was, why should she change just to suit what he wanted? Even as the thought entered her head, she knew it wasn’t the truth. He didn’t want her to change. He wanted her to get the help she needed, but that would mean owning up to something she’d spent nearly two decades trying to forget.

The sound of the slamming door told her he really had gone. She slid to the floor and sobbed. She’d finally driven away the person she loved most in the world. Would Jason ever forgive her? How could he when he didn’t even know how evil she’d been back then? As miserable as she felt, she knew it was far less than she deserved.

Lynda woke up feeling, yet again, as if she’d been awake most of the night, but she knew that probably wasn’t the case. She couldn’t remember her dreams, but they couldn’t have been good judging by the way she’d tied herself up in the duvet.

Three months had passed since Jason had left, but the bed still seemed too big for just one person, despite the fact she’d slept in it alone quite happily before he’d moved in.

But Jason was not likely to be coming back, even though they saw each other quite often for drinks. He, at least, seemed to have been able to make the shift from lover to friend. She shook herself. Thoughts of her time with Jason would get her nowhere.

She got up and rummaged in the cupboard for her running gear, knocking her lightweight hoodie on the floor. She reached down to pick it up, remembering how thrilled she’d been when Jason had given it to her to celebrate completing her first marathon. He’d had it specially made for her by one of his designer friends. It was unique and a sign of how much he loved her back then. She shook her head. A five-kilometre jog would sort her out. Running always gave her the chance to put her thoughts in order. As she pulled on her shoes and tied the laces, she felt her spirits rise. Carefully closing her front door, so as not to disturb her neighbours, Lynda ran down to the ground floor and headed out to begin the best part of her day.

By the time Lynda had reached Bath Row her mind was finally calm again. Turning into St Peter’s Lane, she thought about the last few years and the number of races she’d run to raise money for various charities. Keeping her breath as steady as she could, she ran carefully over the cobbles of King’s Mill Lane and then into Austin Street.

Had she done enough to make up for the hurt she’d caused in the past? No, definitely not.

As she reached Rutland Terrace she came to a decision. She would look for a therapist. She had to deal with her past or she’d never find peace. She finished the rest of the run feeling better than when she’d set out.

She upped her pace to finish with a sprint and arrived at the front door of the Victorian terrace. Pressing the button on her watch to end the recording, she leaned over, gasping for breath. This was the only way to start the day.

As she straightened up, she heard a soft mewling coming from the bushes on the other side of the road. It sounded like an animal in distress. She crossed over, listening for the exact location of the sounds. As she approached, a black cat started to crawl away.

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ she said, taking in how skinny and bedraggled it was.

The cat stopped and looked back at her, mewling piteously.

‘Are you hungry? You look hungry.’

Lynda could see the animal was malnourished and she made a decision. Reaching forward, she scooped the cat into her arms.

‘Come on, you. I’ll give you some milk and then take you to the vet. Let’s see if someone has reported you missing.’

She carried the creature upstairs and put her down in the kitchen. As she poured milk into a saucer the cat rubbed itself against her ankle.

‘I’m going to have to shut you in here while I shower,’ she said, putting the saucer down. ‘I’ll be right back.’

The cat began to lap at the milk as Lynda edged her way to the door. She closed it firmly behind her and ran to the bathroom. She had no cat litter and not even a newspaper to put down, so she needed to hurry before she ended up with a kitchen in need of deep cleaning.

Lynda put the cat into the wicker basket that usually housed her spare toiletries. It was the only thing she had with a lid that would also allow air to flow through it. It was a tight squeeze, but surprisingly the cat didn’t put up a fight. Carrying it down to her car she realised just how undernourished the cat must be as the basket felt very light in her arms.

She opened the passenger door and put the basket on the floor by the passenger seat. Driving carefully so as not to upset the basket too much, she followed her satnav directions to the nearest vet. The receptionist was helpful, but explained that as she hadn’t made an appointment, she might have a long wait ahead of her. Lynda settled herself down on one of the seats, cradling the basket.

The receptionist had said that no one had reported the cat as missing, which didn’t really surprise Lynda, considering the state it was in. After ten minutes, during which she texted her boss to explain why she was going to be late for work, the door to the surgery opened and the vet beckoned her in.

‘Good morning, I’m Dr Meadows. What do we have here?’

Lynda explained how and where she’d found the cat.

‘She must have belonged to someone at one time as she’s been spayed, but she doesn’t have a chip,’ Dr Meadows said as he checked the cat over. ‘It’s possible she lived with an elderly person who has passed away, or has gone into residential care and couldn’t take the cat with them. Do you want to take her to the local cat charity?’ he asked. ‘They might be able to find a home for her if no one comes forward to claim her.’

Almost as if she understood, the cat moved across the metal table towards Lynda’s hand and meowed softly. The cat was almost pleading to be with her, but no way could she have a cat in the flat. Or could she? Weren’t cats supposed to be clean animals? Maybe she could give it try. She could always take the cat to an animal shelter if it didn’t work out.

‘No,’ she said, wondering if she’d regret it later. ‘I’m going to take her home with me. If her owner makes contact, can you give them my number?’

Dr Meadows nodded. ‘We’ll also put up a notice in the waiting area to say a black cat has been found and to enquire at reception. You should let the various animal charities know you have the cat, just in case the owner contacts one of them.’

‘I will,’ she said. ‘Can you check her over and give her whatever shots she needs? I’m going to the pet shop to pick up various things. I’ll need some advice on feeding her as well.’

The vet smiled. ‘No problem at all. Ask my receptionist for the leaflet on caring for a cat. We’ll keep her here until you have everything you need. What are you going to call her?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll think about it while I’m shopping for her stuff.’

Lynda left the vet feeling more hopeful about the future. With the cat in the flat she wouldn’t feel so lonely. It was a lucky meeting for both of them. Lucky – that’s what she’d call her new friend. She found herself hoping that she’d be able to cope with any mess and that no one came forward to claim her.

‘Good morning, Lynda. My name is Angelica Dorrant and I’ll be interviewing you today. I hope my assistant explained the way this will pan out.’

Lynda smiled and nodded. ‘She did, but I sort of guessed how it would go. I watch your programme from time to time.’

As Angelica sat down, Lynda forced herself to relax. Watching others being interviewed hadn’t prepared her for the anxiety she was feeling. Waves of nausea washed over her. Why, oh why, had she agreed to be the face of the marathon? Just because she’d run a few, that didn’t make her newsworthy, but Greg had insisted she was the best one to get lots of people to sign up for the race. ‘Get out there and smile,’ he’d said. ‘Tell everyone about the work we do and how much we need others to get involved. Go on, Lynda, you can do it!’

She sure didn’t feel as if she could, but there was no way out, so she’d just have to get on with it.

Angelica smiled. ‘We have a few minutes before we go on air. Do you have any questions?’

Lynda had plenty of questions running through her brain, but couldn’t find the words to verbalise any of them. She shook her head. Her mouth was so dry it would be a miracle if she managed to answer a single question. She watched the countdown clock above Angelica’s head, mesmerised as the seconds raced towards zero.

‘Good evening and welcome to Lincolnshire News. My name is Angelica Dorrant and tonight I am delighted to introduce Lynda Blackthorn. Lynda has joined us as the spokesperson for one of our important local charities: Stamp it Out. Lynda, could you tell our viewers a little about the charity and the work you and the other volunteers do?’

Lynda could feel the sweat running down her back and prayed it wouldn’t be visible. She swallowed hard.

‘St . . . St . . . Stamp it Out,’ she stammered before taking a deep breath. ‘Sorry, I’m a little bit nervous,’ she said and smiled. ‘This is my first time being interviewed on television. Stamp it Out is a small local charity operating on several levels. We are dedicated to stamping out bullying through our helplines and self-awareness courses. These courses are targeted at changing the behaviour of bullies and counselling their victims. We also visit schools, when invited, to talk to pupils and teachers.’

‘How is this paid for? Is the charity dependent on public donations for funding, or are you receiving government support, either local or national?’ Angelica said.

‘We don’t receive any government funding and rely entirely on donations,’ Lynda answered. ‘We also run fundraising events such as bring-and-buy days, book sales and tea parties, but this year we are aiming to organise a marathon and two shorter races to bring in some much-needed income.’

‘That sounds ambitious.’

Lynda nodded. ‘It is, which is why I’m here tonight. We are hoping to encourage not only race entrants, but volunteers to help out with all the behind-the-scenes activities this will entail. We will have three categories: a 5km fun run, a half-marathon and a full marathon.’

‘Good heavens, all on the same day?’

Lynda shook her head. ‘No, over a three-day spread. The fun run on a Friday, the half-marathon on the Saturday and the full marathon on the Sunday. As you can imagine, this is going to take quite a bit of organising.’

‘So what are you looking for in the way of help?’ Angelica asked.

‘First and foremost, we need someone to set up a website so that runners can enter their details online and pay the entrance fees for the various categories, and maybe purchase some merchandise if they feel so inclined.’ Lynda paused. ‘We don’t have anyone in the charity at the moment who can do this.’ She looked directly into the camera, finally relaxing now that she was discussing the race needs. ‘Come on, you techie people. Please help us out with your skills.’

Angelica nodded. ‘I’m sure our viewers will respond to that plea. What other assistance will you need?’

‘Race stewards – those who will make sure the runners keep to the correct routes. Oh, and people to man the water tables. Volunteers to clean up the streets after each event. Lots of helpers really, no special skills required. Oh, I nearly forgot. If there is an accountant out there prepared to look after the financial side of things, we would be very grateful.’

‘We will, of course, put up details at the end of this segment showing how and where those wishing to give their time and skills can contact the charity, but as we have a few minutes left, let’s talk about you and how you came to get involved with the charity. What made you passionate about helping those who have been bullied or are being bullied?’

Lynda felt her spine stiffen at the question. She hadn’t bargained. . .