The One You Fear (3 page)

She could understand that.

‘It’s Lizzy, isn’t it?’ the man said.

Lizzy stiffened. ‘How do you…’

‘It’s okay,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I know it looks weird, but I only want a quick chat. I thought the bus ride would be the perfect opportunity.’

Now Lizzy was angry. She recognised the voice. ‘Adrian Spencer. It’s you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ he said, proffering a hand. ‘Adrian Spencer, London Daily Post.’

Lizzy wanted to push past him and sit somewhere else. For the past three weeks, this guy had been calling her, asking for an interview. He was writing a feature article about the events surrounding Dan’s kidnap. Lizzy, like Emma and the others, had refused his increasingly persistent advances. ‘You’ve got some nerve.’

He shrugged. ‘You have to, in my job.’

‘Well, it’s not a job I’d want to do, harassing people who have been through terrible events and are just trying to get on with their lives.’

‘Steady on,’ he said. ‘Harassment is a bit strong a word.’

‘You think so? Well, where I come from, what you’ve been doing – calling me, Emma, Will, Dan, Richard, Edward, numerous times, not taking no for an answer, and now pestering me on my way to work – is definitely harassment. And if you don’t stop it, I
will
call the police, you understand?’

‘Okay, I appreciate that you could see it in that way, but I just want to get the story straight. I’ll be writing the article whether I speak to you or not, so surely it’s better for you to get your side of the story straight. You wouldn’t want to be misrepresented, would you?’

Lizzy bristled. ‘Don’t threaten me.’

He laughed that off. ‘Now, come on, I’m not threatening anyone. It’s just a fact. My editor wants to run this story, the readers want to read about it, so it is going to happen. How it happens is up to you, in many ways.’

‘Okay,’ Lizzy said, ‘I’ll give you a quote.’

‘Great, let me just get my recorder.’ He delved into his pocket and brought out the digital recording device, pressing the record button as he held it between them. ‘Feel free to go ahead.’

‘Get lost!’

Adrian Spencer’s face creased and he lowered the device. ‘I can see that now isn’t a good time.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ Lizzy said. ‘It will never be a good time. You won’t get anything from me.’

‘Not even for a fee?’

Lizzy laughed. ‘You must be desperate, if you’re starting to offer money. The answer’s no, not for any amount. You understand?’

‘I still don’t see why you’re so hostile about this.’

She shook her head. This man just didn’t get it. ‘Because, as I’ve explained to you several times over the phone, what happened to us isn’t entertainment. We’re all still coming to terms with what happened, it’s extremely difficult and stressful, and we don’t want our lives served up in your crappy little newspaper just to satisfy people’s curiosity.’

‘Can I quote you on that?’

‘Screw you. Now, please, move.’ They were still some way from her stop, but she decided it was time to leave. She would gladly walk the extra minutes to get away from this creep.

He stood up to let her pass, but as she disembarked he followed her off the bus.

‘Leave me alone,’ she shouted, as the bus pulled away. ‘Don’t you understand English?’

‘Sure, I’ll leave you alone,’ he said. ‘But there’s one last thing before I go.’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Lizzy started walking away.

‘I think you do,’ he shouted after her. ‘I know about the secret. I know all about what Peter Myers told you.’

Lizzy stopped and turned around.

3

Will Holden sat down on the park bench, stretched out his legs and looked up at the sky. Overhead a plane trailed across, en route to Heathrow. He brought his vision back down to earth, scanning Regent’s Park. It was still early morning – just past ten – but already the sun had begun to bring out the crowds. There were the usual joggers, a mixture of ages and sizes, pounding the grass and paths, plugged into their music players, lost in their own world. There were the dog walkers, many of whom looked remarkably like their pets. There were the families, children playing with balls or engaged in chase with their siblings. And there were the lovers, hand in hand, out for a morning stroll.

Will smiled. Things felt good. Just a few weeks ago, in this very same park, it had been so different. The sense of doom had been suffocating, as he wondered whether Dan was still alive, and whether it was all because of him: because of what he had done.

And it had been.

Or at least what he had been party to. Yes, it was Stuart Harris who had killed Stephen Myers. But it was he who had helped him dispose of the body. And it was he who had kept quiet about what had happened. He still regretted keeping the secret for so long, and it had been such a relief to tell Emma and the others the truth.

They had persuaded him not to tell the police.

Once they had found out that his claim about telling the police everything had been a spur-of-the-moment lie to stop their father from shooting Peter Myers, they had been clear – admitting his crime to the authorities wouldn’t achieve anything, apart from punishing him even more than he had already punished himself. In the aftermath of Dan’s rescue, he had considered what to do. He decided that they were right. The burden of hiding the secret had been lifted – for the first time in years he felt free of its crushing weight.

He had been given another chance.

Suddenly he saw Amy, walking across the grass, her arms falling lightly to her sides as she approached. She was wearing joggers and a summery t-shirt. She looked beautiful, with her blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.

‘Hi,’ she said, smiling. ‘You’re early.’

‘So are you.’ Will smiled back, standing to greet her. She offered him her cheek and he kissed it lightly.

They had met two and a half weeks ago at a bar in town. Amy had sparked up conversation while waiting to get served and, for the next two hours, they’d talked non-stop about all manner of things – their backgrounds, likes and dislikes, hopes for the future. Amy was a sports teacher at an inner-city comprehensive, and obviously loved her job. Will had never met anyone so instantly attractive, looks- and personality-wise, so he’d been amazed when she had suggested meeting up the next day for a coffee.

Two and a half weeks, and numerous dates later, things couldn’t have been going any better.

‘Are you ready, then,’ she said, ‘to face your fears?’

Will nodded. At the first meeting he had revealed his fear of spiders, and how it was the main barrier for him visiting his old school friend Ed, who’d emigrated to Melbourne, Australia, three years ago. Ed and his wife Yvonne had invited him there numerous times, but the thought of visiting a country where spiders came as big as your fist was just too much. For as long as he could remember, he’d hated spiders. It probably had something to do with the film
Arachnophobia
, which he had watched at a friend’s house when he was only ten years old. The movie, about a town plagued by the arachnids, had lingered in his memory.

On their third date, a moonlit walk by the Thames, Amy had suggested a radical treatment for his fear – holding a tarantula as part of a phobia treatment session at London Zoo. She knew a friend, a fellow teacher at her school, who had done it, and it had worked really well. At first dismissing the idea because of sheer horror, Will came round. At the heart of it, he wanted to impress Amy, who was obviously much more adventurous than he – she had been trekking in Nepal, explored South America on a gap year by herself, regularly parachute jumped (Will was afraid of heights), and competed in several triathlons, to name just some of her exploits. Compared to all of that, holding a spider in a controlled environment seemed straightforward.

Except that it wasn’t, of course.

They walked hand in hand across the grass towards the entrance to the zoo. Will wanted to back out. And his face must have shown it.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Amy said, as they reached the gates. ‘You look, well, terrible.’

‘I’m fine,’ he lied, ‘just a bit nervous.’

Amy smiled warmly. ‘It’s okay, you know, you don’t have to do this. Don’t feel forced into it. We could try again another time.’

Will braced himself. He had to do this now, or it would never happen. ‘No, I’m doing it.’

They paid at the desk and entered the zoo. It was another ten minutes until their slot for the up-close and personal session with the spider, so they spent the time wandering around the zoo, with Amy trying to take Will’s mind off the impending encounter. They spent time watching the penguins, where Amy revealed that she intended to visit Antarctica, and had already done some investigating of possible options. Her distraction technique worked and by the time they headed off to the building Will felt better.

Ten minutes later and Will was standing there, Amy by his side, with the biggest spider he had ever seen being lowered gently onto the palm of his hand. The keeper stood back as he brought his hand away from the tarantula.

‘Are you okay, Will?’

Will nodded, not daring to breathe in case it startled the spider into scurrying up his arm, or jumping towards his face. Suddenly his arms didn’t seem long enough. But a few small breaths and he was okay, watching the creature with its hairy black legs as it moved slowly over his palm.

‘Its legs tickle,’ he said, finally managing to get some words out.

The man nodded. ‘He’s a friendly chap, Horace. Likes giving massages to make people feel comfortable.’

The spider paused, as if wondering what to do. Will looked across at Amy, who smiled.

‘You see,’ the man said, ‘lots of people are afraid of spiders, certainly. My wife nearly split up with me when she realised what I did for a living – she was scared stiff that one might stow away in my bag and appear in front of her. But now she’s fine with them, and most people are, if you can break down the instinctive barrier that’s there.’

Will focussed on the spider again. It was a lot better than he’d expected, although obviously he was still nervous. ‘Do a lot of people do this kind of thing?’

‘A lot. Since we started doing these sessions a few years ago, the number of people enrolling has grown every year.’

‘Does anyone ever freak out, when you first bring out the spider?’

‘Some do,’ the keeper acknowledged. ‘One man, a banker from the city, came in here last week, all bravado, until he saw Horace. He couldn’t leave the building quickly enough. But mostly people warm to them, once they realise that there’s really nothing to be scared of. After all, even the bigger spiders are much smaller than we are.’

Will felt a sense of achievement – he could have been one of those people who had lost it, turned on his heels, and run. But he hadn’t. He’d faced his fears, kept his cool, and come through. It felt good, really good.

‘Had enough?’ the man asked. ‘Or would you like to meet Horace’s friend – he’s a little bit bigger than this guy, and faster.’

Will looked over at Amy again, then back at the man. ‘Why not.’

‘Well done,’ Amy said, hugging his arm as they headed back into the main area of the zoo. ‘That was amazing, really amazing.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Will couldn’t help but smile. ‘Thanks. I can’t believe I actually did it.’

‘Well, you did!’

‘It was all because of you, you know. Without you, I would never have done it.’

‘Rubbish,’ she said, ‘it just might have taken you longer to get around to it, that’s all.’

Will knew that wasn’t the case. ‘Maybe.’

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s grab a coffee, and I’ll explain what’s next.’

‘Next?’

But Amy was already bounding off, beckoning him to follow. ‘Come on.’

‘How does it feel?’ she said, taking a sip from her coffee, sitting across from Will in the zoo’s restaurant. ‘To conquer your fears like that?’

‘It feels brilliant,’ Will replied. ‘Absolutely brilliant.’

Amy smiled. ‘But how did you feel when you first saw the spider?’

‘Scared, really scared.’

‘And when the guy lowered it onto your hand?’

‘Terrified.’

‘That’s how I felt,’ she revealed.

Will was taken aback. ‘What? I didn’t know you were scared of spiders.’

‘I don’t mean then. I mean every time I’ve done something challenging. The first parachute jump, I was scared witless. Those first few days in South America, when I realised I really was out there on my own, were dreadful. On the second day I nearly booked a flight straight back home.’

‘I didn’t realise. I thought…’

‘That I was fearless?’ Amy smiled. ‘Well, far from it. I forced myself to do all these things. To me, it’s not a challenge if you’re not frightened, even just a little bit. Life is filled with things to be afraid of, so as far as I can see it, you’ve got a choice – either you run away from them, or you face them down. And from my experience, it’s a lot more fun facing them head on.’