Keep Your Friends Close: A gripping psychological thriller full of shocking twists you won’t see coming

Keep Your Friends Close

JUNE TAYLOR

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright

KillerReads

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Copyright © June Taylor 2018

Cover design by Holly MacDonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com

June Taylor asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008318109

Version: 2018-08-14

for Juice and Lemon

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1: Karin

Chapter 2: Mel

Chapter 3: Mel

Chapter 4: Karin

Chapter 5: Karin

Chapter 6: Mel

Chapter 7: Karin

Chapter 8: Louie

Chapter 9: Karin

Chapter 10: Mel

Chapter 11: Louie

Chapter 12: Karin

Chapter 13: Karin

Chapter 14: Louie

Chapter 15: Mel

Chapter 16: Karin

Chapter 17: Karin

Chapter 18: Mel

Chapter 19: Louie

Chapter 20: Mel

Chapter 21: Karin

Chapter 22: Mel

Chapter 23: Louie

Chapter 24: Karin

Chapter 25: Mel

Chapter 26: Karin

Chapter 27: Louie

Chapter 28: Karin

Chapter 29: Louie

Chapter 30: Karin

Chapter 31: Mel

Chapter 32: Karin

Chapter 33: Louie

Chapter 34: Karin

Chapter 35: Mel

Chapter 36: Karin

Chapter 37: Karin

Chapter 38: Louie

Chapter 39: Karin

Chapter 40: Louie

Chapter 41: Mel

Chapter 42: Karin

Chapter 43: Louie

Chapter 44: Karin

Chapter 45: Mel

Chapter 46: Karin

Chapter 47: Karin

Chapter 48: Mel

Chapter 49: Karin

Chapter 50: Mel

Chapter 51: Karin

Chapter 52: Karin

Chapter 53: Karin

Chapter 54: Louie

Chapter 55: Karin

Chapter 56: Louie

Chapter 57: Karin

Chapter 58: Karin

Chapter 59: Karin

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading…

About the Author

About the Publisher

1

Karin

Red hair, red dress.

Karin looked at the image of herself in the mirror. She liked the clash of red against red. A clashy confidence. It seemed appropriate today, her birthday. And not just any birthday; she had made it to twenty-two. At one point, she didn’t think she would.

She wished her mother could see the woman she had grown into. Not just see, but know. The bundle of letters, tossed onto the bed earlier, reflected in the mirror. Still tied with the same string from five years ago. Her mother, Birgitta, had sent them all back, of course, and Karin wasn’t sure why she was still hanging onto them. For several reasons, she ought to get rid. There had been no birthday card this morning. She had known there wouldn’t be, there never was, but Karin had still searched through the pile of post to check. Birgitta had no idea where in the world Karin was and didn’t care. But the money had gone into her account, as promised. Karin had logged in at work to check. Always true to her word. That was the scariest thing of all about her mother.

Someone at work had asked if Karin was okay. Wasn’t she feeling well? Had she received some bad news? She felt dizzy and the pain had come quickly after that. Scurrying down the corridor, avoiding her colleagues, she had burst into Will’s room and quickly shut the door. It shocked Will; he was busy painting the walls, but broke off from his task to sit with her. Because Will understood. He had read every word that she and Birgitta had ever written to each other, and Karin was grateful for this place of sanctuary.

She could feel it coming on again now as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, the cycle repeating itself, and the sight of those letters only added to her distress. It was as if a sharpened icicle was being pushed into her head, boring a hole between the eyes. That’s how it always came, and she couldn’t stop it no matter what she did. Hands over her head to form a tight-fitting lid, as she was doing now; or elbows at right angles, squeezing against her ears to shut out the screams. Sometimes she scrunched up into a tight ball on the floor.

All this so she can never forget.

Even with her eyes closed she is still able to see his legs swinging. Side to side. A human pendulum. She runs down the garden and finds him there. In her log cabin. The steps kicked over, lying on their side. Minutes later she hears Birgitta screaming. Karin has never heard her mother scream like that before. It wasn’t what she did. Normally so cool and composed, this sound is primal and raw, yelling at Karin to help get him down.

But it’s too late.

It was always too late.

The episode passed, gradually, and Karin was used to it now. She just had to let it work its way through and back out again. But it still happened as often, day or night. Night-time was the worst. Everything was worse in those hot, twisted sheets of insomnia.

She raised her head slowly, checking to see whether it really had passed this time, and caught sight of herself in the mirror again; different from a few moments ago. Her cheeks were flushed, as though they had been too near a fire, and she would have to reapply her make-up. Her painted fingernails danced across her face as she wiped the sweat off it, trying to reassure her that everything was going to be okay; she hadn’t been gnawing on them quite so much lately.

How can you miss someone you really hate?

Perhaps that was why Karin had unlocked the box today. On this special day. Releasing cedar wood and iris, and something else, she didn’t know quite what, from beneath the lid, filling the room with Birgitta’s scent. Avocado. Lavender. And a whiff of her homemade Swedish fläderblomssaft. In one of those letters it said that if Karin was to contact her again, she would call the police.

Were there times when her mother felt this way too? Had Karin been on her mind at any point today? Did she wake up this morning remembering it was Karin’s birthday? Probably not. Probably never gave it a second thought. Not when she had sent Karin away to boarding school by the time she was eight and barely seen her since.

She checked the time on her phone then sniffed the letters one last time. Still another forty minutes before she had to be ready. Her heart raced as she began to work quickly on the knot, setting her teeth onto it, and picked out a letter.

A few paragraphs were enough. Too much. That’s why she had chosen never to return to them in all these years. So why was she keeping them? Really, she knew why.

Retying the knot as swiftly as she could, stuffing the letters back inside the box, Karin noticed in one corner was the tiny pebble from Louie. The letter K painted on it in bright yellow, a bobbing seahorse on the other side. She held it in her hand, running her fingers over the pebble’s smooth curves, not quite prepared for the rush of memories that came flooding back with this object either. Strange to think she must have kept it in her pocket for all the time she was trying to hide from Louie. Having moved in here, feeling safe again, she had put it away with the letters.

Karin threw it back into the box and, with trembling fingers, managed to close the lid. She scrambled the numbers on the padlock, but then dropped the box on the floor. It made a loud thud, just missing her foot. She picked it up and returned it to the drawer, covering it with her T-shirts.

It really was time to get rid.

Karin was not that person any more.

2

Mel

The extractor fan made its toothless rattle, sucking out stir-fry fumes and taking some Radio 6 Music with it. Mel stood at the sink, distractedly running the washing-up brush over her plate and staring out of the window. She was thinking about Karin, what to do, what to say, whether to say anything, when a bruiser of a magpie came to land in the overgrown grass. She strained her neck to see if she could spot another flash of black and white anywhere. Not that she believed in that rubbish. She had been around long enough to know that you create your own luck in this life.

The patch of grass stretching out from the kitchen window ought to have been as neat and lush as the other lawns in this row of Headingley terraces, but instead it was long and floppy, much like a student’s haircut, and Mel had lost count of the number of times she had caught next door’s dog fouling in it. The fence was blown down on either side, a slap-in-the-face reminder that at her time of life she shouldn’t still be living in a place like this.

But it was okay for now.

A loud thump came through the ceiling, giving her a jolt. Karin must have dropped something. Mel flicked off the extractor fan, listened to Karin coming downstairs, and began to prepare herself. Returning to the sink, she picked up the wok and dunked it into the soapy water. She did a half-turn as Karin hopped into the kitchen, one sandal clicking on the Yorkshire stone flags while she attempted to catch her foot in the other, almost toppling over. Steadying herself on the unit, Karin succeeded in getting her sandal on properly and grimaced at Mel, as if acknowledging that she needed to be more ladylike. She immediately forgot this, however, and began grabbing things off the unit – lipstick, keys, pen – firing them into her handbag like missiles.

Mel dried her hands on the towel and smiled at her housemate. She detected a new perfume on Karin. It smelt expensive. The stir-fry odour was beginning to wrap around it though, concocting a rather sickly scent once it hit the back of the throat.

‘Is this a bit much?’ Karin asked, standing up tall, pulling her dress over her curves. It was red, halterneck, with a diamond-shaped slash that accentuated her soft white cleavage against the rest of her lightly tanned body.

‘Depends what you’re after,’ Mel replied, raising an eyebrow. ‘It’s very Marilyn.’ But then she thought Karin might not know who that was. ‘Monroe,’ she added.

‘I know who Marilyn Monroe is. But she was blonde.’

‘Well you look a million dollars, even so.’

‘Hm. More like £3.50 from the charity shop. Don’t you dare tell Aaron, or he’ll think I haven’t made an effort.’ She pointed a warning finger at Mel, and Mel did the same back in an attempt to relax her. Karin’s jitteriness suggested she might actually know something. But then she said: ‘He’s making a massive deal of my birthday and I’m really not sure why.’

No wonder Aaron was in such a hurry. Karin was particularly striking when she was out of her work clothes, a pair of baggy dungarees usually, and tonight her shock of red hair was let loose down her back, instead of scrunched up messily on top of her head. Another style that suited her, of course; she was young and could get away with anything.

It was precisely this, her youth, that was Aaron’s biggest fear. Although he had never said as much, Mel knew he was afraid that, one day, sooner or later, Karin would wake up and realize he was too old for her. He was twice her age after all. When he had called round a few days ago to fix the dishwasher – without succeeding – Mel had immediately picked up on the fact that he was going to ask her opinion on something. It didn’t take much to work out what it was concerning, but Mel wished she could have been better prepared.

Over the three and a half years she had been living here, they had reached the point of chatting comfortably over a cup of tea when Aaron came round to sort out anything in the house. He was good that way, usually acting promptly to address any problems she brought to his attention. Trivial matters they talked about mostly: holidays; places they would like to visit; new bars and restaurants opening in Leeds; a bit of work chit-chat now and then; and the on-going battle he had against the dishwasher, with his stubborn refusal to let it beat him. They had touched on his divorce once or twice but as a rule it was no more than small talk. So, being relatively at ease in one another’s company, an unspoken confidence had evolved that perhaps they could rely on the other person in a crisis, or confide, if ever there was a need.

Therefore when Aaron had come round a few days ago and begun his sentence with: ‘You and Karin are pretty close, aren’t you?’, Mel had known exactly what was coming. Instead of answering yes, she had asked him: ‘why?’ To which he’d replied: ‘Well, what do you think Karin would say if …?’

‘If?’

Mel didn’t make it easy for him. Aaron had stuck his head in the dishwasher to hide his embarrassment. He had an old-fashioned way of doing things at times, and really Mel ought to have seen this coming much sooner. It was part of his charm, too, of course, and Mel could clearly see why Karin had fallen for him. But what was she supposed to say? Even if she thought Karin was seeking a father figure, it wasn’t her place to tell him this.

‘I’m taking her away somewhere for her birthday,’ he continued, still talking to the dishwasher. ‘Somewhere special. And I’m going to – I’m thinking of asking her to marry me.’ When Mel didn’t respond, he resurfaced again looking sheepish. ‘So erm. So, what do you think?’

‘Wow,’ she replied, half-laughing. Taking a moment to swallow the news. ‘It’s a bit soon, isn’t it? You’ve only known her a few months. Why so quick?’

‘Sometimes you get a good feeling. Don’t you?’

‘What about your ex-wife?’

‘I doubt she’ll mind.’ It was Aaron’s turn to let out an uncomfortable laugh. ‘Let’s just say I ignored my bad feelings on that one. Look I know it’s swift, but I only mean for us to get engaged for now.’

Mel began to speculate then; she couldn’t help it. Was the age difference, and this fear of Karin being snapped up by someone else, his only reason for accelerating things? Or was there some other motivation?

The advice Mel had given him was that perhaps he should wait a little longer, at least a few more months, otherwise he might scare Karin away. She was only twenty-two. Aaron had thanked her for listening but, when his parting words had been: ‘Life’s too short,’ Mel could only assume that he was going to go through with it.

Karin seemed to be waiting for some sort of response from Mel, and Mel realized she had become distracted. Her head was tilted to one side, and she was chewing her lip looking questioningly at Mel.

So now she found herself in this rather awkward position. On the one hand, Aaron, asking for her discretion. On the other, Karin, a vulnerable young woman who was likely to say yes.

Mel was concerned about the repercussions from all of this.

Despite her youth and an ever-growing confidence, Karin still had no sense of her own beauty, or if she did she wasn’t quite at the stage of being totally at ease with it. Nonetheless she had come a long way since Mel had first discovered her, almost a year ago now, sitting in a forlorn heap under the Dark Arches of Leeds railway station. At first, she had thought that Karin was a skinny, pubescent teenager. Sixteen at most. Mel had been shocked to discover that she was in fact much older.

Karin had filled out a bit since then, her malnourished curves realizing their full potential. She had flourished in other ways too, doing well in her job at the charity. Despite all of this, Mel knew there were still insecurities that lurked beneath. Things which, even now, Karin was reluctant to talk about. When she had first moved into the house, Mel used to hear her sometimes at night, muffled screams and sobs coming through the walls, and she would go into her room and try to console her. Although Karin had confided to an extent, Mel knew there was still something she wasn’t telling her and without that insight it was difficult to guide her. Or Aaron for that matter. Not that he had taken much notice so far.

‘Have you any idea where he’s taking you?’ Mel asked her.

Although she had enquired at the time, Aaron hadn’t been prepared to share that part of his plan with Mel, other than to hint that it would be done in style, as one might expect of him, and with enough flare and fanfare to increase his chances of a positive outcome.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Karin replied. ‘He just said pack an overnight bag for the weekend and you don’t need a passport.’ Karin stopped what she was doing, detecting there was something in the way Mel was looking at her. ‘You know, don’t you?’

Mel let out a sigh of responsibility. ‘All I can tell you is, well, it’s about more than just your birthday. Put it that way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just warning you. So you can think about your answer.’

‘Answer to what?’ Karin gasped. Eyes opening wide, her body stiffening. ‘You think he’s going to propose to me?’

‘Have something prepared just in case.’

Karin immediately bristled, pinning her shoulders back. ‘What, like no you mean?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Mel followed the strong outline of Karin’s shoulders all the way down her arms. Shoulders that were no longer bony, arms now toned and bronzed from the many hours she spent working outdoors lately. Her skin had a body-lotion shimmer to it tonight. Mel had never known Karin to take such care over her appearance. Nail varnish too. Even toenails.

‘It’s your call, Karin. I’m just giving you a heads-up. It’s a big decision and easy to get carried away. Don’t let him hurry you.’

Karin held onto the unit to steady herself, as though she might expire if she didn’t. Her face lit up by a ripening glow; it made Mel anxious to witness it.

‘I love the way he makes me feel,’ Karin said, giving Mel an almost pleading look.

‘Oh, Karin, I know you do.’ She spoke softly this time, realizing her tone maybe sounded harsh before. She moved closer to Karin, cupping her cheek gently. ‘But you’re twenty-two years old, and who do you have for comparison? Hm?’

Karin pulled back, although Mel still didn’t let her escape, holding onto her shoulders. When Karin refused to meet her gaze, Mel lifted up her chin. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘if Aaron loves you, he’ll wait until you’re ready. Five months is no time at all to get to know someone. I mean why wouldn’t he want to marry you? Look at you, you’re gorgeous. He wants to snap you up before anyone else can.’

Karin mused on that for a moment, ran her fingers through the freshly blow-dried waves that she had just created. When she realized she was undoing all her effort, she allowed her hand to flop onto the unit, trying to read Mel’s thoughts. ‘So do you know where we’re going?’

‘Of course I don’t. He told me in strictest confidence that he was thinking of proposing when he came round to fix the dishwasher, and that’s all I know. You have a bright future ahead of you, Karin. You still have to work out who you are and what you want, before you rush into anything like this.’

Karin pulled away again. ‘If you’re referring to—’

The back door was suddenly flung open, giving them both a start.

3

Mel

Mel looked at Karin, zipping up her mouth as Will’s greasy mop of hair presented itself in the kitchen, followed by his decorating overalls and paint-splattered boots.

‘Hi, Will,’ said Karin, giving him an exaggerated double thumbs-up. ‘Good work today. Soon be in.’

Will nodded, signing something back to Karin which Mel couldn’t understand. He brushed against Mel’s shoulder as he reached over to the bread bin and slung a piece of on-the-turn white bread into the toaster. Mel waved her hand in front of his face and said, ‘Hi, Will.’

Will nodded, then blustered out into the hallway.

‘Could you see that he eats something decent this weekend while I’m away?’ asked Karin, screwing up her nose in that way of hers when she wanted something. ‘It’s just he never eats at work and—’

‘Sure.’

It was falling to Mel to do that anyway, but she resisted mentioning it. Mel glanced out of the window, not intentionally, but Karin took that to mean she must be wondering about the garden because it prompted her to say something. ‘He can’t tackle that yet, Mel. He’s working long hours at Ashby Road.’

‘It’s fine,’ she replied. ‘I’ll see that he eats. I’ll make him some pasta later.’

‘Look, I’ve said I’ll chip in a bit extra with my rent, now that I can, and Aaron says it’s not a problem, Will still being here, so—’