Two Doors Down: A twisted psychological thriller by Collette Heather

Author:Collette Heather [Heather, Collette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-17T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

Conversation turns to lighter, more pressing matters – what food to order, what wine to drink. We have both ordered the fish dish of the day, because this is supposed to be one of the best fish restaurants in the UK, and when in Rome. For a starter I am having the squid, and Bill is having spicy king prawn fishcakes.

We also ordered a bottle of red – a fine Bergerac – which we sip whilst waiting for the food.

“Guess this makes us a pair of philistines, drinking red wine with fish,” I say.

Bill laughs. “Indeed. But white usually gives me a colossal hangover.”

“Me too.”

We sit in silence for a moment, drinking our wine, absorbing the ambience. A candle flickers on the table between us, its wax dripping down the side of a bottle that is coated with the wax of a hundred of its comrades before it. I feel protected in our little alcove, cocooned from the outside world. My guard is coming down, emboldened as I am by the alcohol and the fact he hasn’t bolted since my true motives have been revealed.

“Am I right to be concerned about her?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“We’re back on that subject, are we?”

But I detect no malice in the hard lines of his handsome face, softened by the glow of the candle and the low lighting.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Maybe this is weirdly cathartic for me, too. I haven’t talked about her and my dad in so long. But I’m not sure how I can help. I didn’t really know her.”

“When you and your dad were trying to patch things up, did he ever talk about her? Did he tell you anything about her past?”

“No. We were estranged; we didn’t share anything personal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That must be the hundredth time you’ve said sorry.”

“Sorry.”

He grins. “You’re like a dog with a bone with Holly, aren’t you?”

“I guess. I’m just concerned.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

Then I am reminded of the thing I was most keen to ask, “What did you mean just now, when you said it figures about her ending up in Broadgate?”

“Her family is from here,” Bill replies. “I knew that much about her. Her dad, who’s been dead for years, was a famous horror writer from this neck of the woods.”

My blood turns to ice in my veins. “Not Simon Langdon, by any chance?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy. You a horror fan, then?”

I feel sick. “Not really.”

“I take it you know Holly is a horror writer, too, just like Daddy? She’s quite well known, apparently, with her self-published stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve looked at Sam West. But I had no idea that Langdon was her father. And her surname was Turner growing up,” I say, remembering what she’d told me over the meal at Mark’s.

“Turner was her mother’s name. I don’t think her father figured all that much in her life.”

Does Mark know this? I wonder. And if so, why didn’t he tell me? Is it a big secret or something? Maybe Mark doesn’t even know.

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