Greenwich Park by Katherine Faulkner (read book txt) 📗

is the weird bit. It talks about a remortgage for home improvements?’

‘That is strange. To what value?’

My heart rate creeps up again, the hand that’s holding the letter shaking slightly.

‘Um. It says here it’s for 85 per cent of the property value. It’s … it’s £3.6 million.’

There is silence at the other end.

‘I’m sorry. You’ve lost me,’ Brian says eventually. ‘Your previous mortgage was next to nothing, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘That’s right – I’ve just pulled up your records here. It was less than £100,000. Just that chunk your parents had left at the time of their death. Yes, I remember now.’ I hear him click, closing a window away. ‘Why would a lender think you wanted to take out a £3.6 million debt?’

I have no answer for him.

‘All right, Helen, don’t worry,’ he says. ‘I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation for all this.’ But he doesn’t sound sure at all. He sounds worried. I feel my pulse climbing, the palms of my hands starting to sweat. ‘Leave it with me, all right? I’ll look into it for you. I’ll call the lender. Who is it?’

I read him out the name, the number it says to call. ‘I’ve never even heard of them. Have you?’

He doesn’t answer.

‘Brian?’

‘Um, OK, Helen, I don’t want you to call that number. Don’t do anything, all right? I’ll look into this straight away for you. Keep your phone on. I’ll come back to you as soon as possible.’

I nod, tears forming in my eyes. ‘Thanks, Brian,’ I croak, before I hang up.

I try Daniel, but there is no answer. I tap out a message telling him to call me urgently. Then I slump down in the chair, my back aching, and stare out of the window. It is raining again, the street a gloomy watercolour, the sky and the puddles leaking into each other. My fingers find the wedding ring on my left hand and I turn it around and around and around.

As the sky darkens, I check my phone again and again. Nothing from Daniel. The battery is dying; I’ll have to go and get the charger. Serena hasn’t returned any of my calls since I saw her. I want to let her know I’m here for her. I want to know how Rory is. But she’s been so distant ever since I told her about the notes I found, my suspicions about Rory.

I head into the kitchen, take down the silver caddy where I keep the camomile tea. I feel so tired, as if all the energy has drained out of my body. I just want to sleep. I think about curling up on the sofa, a pillow between my knees, another behind my back.

I hear a key turn in the front door. I turn round. There is the shadow of a figure, moving behind the cloudy glass.

HELEN

‘Helen? Are you there?’

I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath. I lean on the sideboard, cursing myself for being so on edge.

‘Helen, you want to see me.’

‘Yes, sorry. I’m so sorry. Come in.’

It’s just Vilmos, the builder. I’d completely forgotten I’d asked him to come and look at the cellar foundations, that he’s still got his key. I usher him in.

I feel like telling him to go away. I’m desperate to lie down, get some rest. But he is here now. I tell him about the concrete, the crack that has spread across the new foundation. ‘I know Daniel said we wanted to pause the work for a bit, but I was a bit worried about it. Can you check it for me?’

Vilmos looks at me, confused. ‘Helen, I not work for you any more. Daniel told me. He is using other guys now.’

‘Who?’

Vilmos sniffs. ‘Some other guys. Here, take these.’ He hand me the spare set.

I close my fingers around the keys. There is an awkward silence. Why didn’t Daniel tell me we’d changed our building company? I thought he’d worked with Vilmos for years.

‘Helen, I don’t like ask,’ he says, staring down at my belly. It is huge now – almost comedic. I feel ridiculous even walking down the street. ‘Your husband – I need money. For my guys. He needs to pay me for work we have done. I wait a long time for this.’

I rub my forehead, embarrassed. ‘Vilmos, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know we were behind. I thought Daniel was organising it all. He’s had a lot on his mind. I’m sure, I’m sure …’ I hold the sideboard. The world is swimming again, the little twists of black and white crinkling on the sides of my vision, like sweet wrappers.

‘Please, Helen,’ he says. His face is etched with kindness. ‘Do not worry for the money now.’ He pauses. ‘You said in your message there is crack. You want I have a look?’

When he emerges from the cellar, his hair and clothes are dusted with grime. His expression seems to have clouded over slightly.

‘What do you think?’

He shakes his head. ‘Could be too much water in concrete mix, wrong type of concrete. But … I don’t know. It doesn’t look like this.’ He scratches the side of his head. ‘Can I ask another guy, bring with me?’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘It’s not urgent really.’

He nods. ‘OK, I come back tomorrow. And you are OK now?’

I force a smile, look up at Vilmos. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’ I get up, flick the kettle on. I will have that tea, try and sleep for a bit.

‘OK, good,’ he says, smiling back uncertainly. ‘I see mark.’ He motions to his own forehead, then gestures at mine. ‘I worry you bang your head.’

The kettle clicks off, the steam rising between me and Vilmos, clouding the windows. I stare at him.

‘What are you talking about? What mark?’

‘In here.’ Vilmos frowns at me. ‘Come, look.’

And he beckons me towards the cellar door.

KATIE

I’ve never been to this part of Cambridge – it’s a new housing estate, the homes like little