The Half Truth(61)

‘You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t drag the past around; you have nothing to feel guilty about.’

Tina nodded. ‘I know.’

‘Why don’t you go home and have a long, hot bath, pamper yourself and have an early night.’

‘Thanks Mum, I really appreciate it. And please don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’

Tina gave her mother a hug. She hated telling lies to her, but she couldn’t exactly tell her the truth.

As soon as Tina walked through the front door of Belfour Avenue, she knew something was wrong. Rascal mewed a greeting as he trotted through the open kitchen door. The first giveaway. She knew she had most definitely shut the door to the hallway before leaving.

Her heart gave a sprint. Someone had been in the house. Or worse, someone was in the house. She knew they wouldn’t be able to get in through the loft hatch any more, not since John had fitted it with a padlock, so this meant they must have got in by some other means, via the kitchen, judging by the open door.

She wondered if it was Sasha and called out his name. If there was someone else in the house, now would be their time to escape out the back, the way they had come. She waited by the front door, her hand on the lock, ready to make her escape if it wasn’t Sasha.

Rascal rubbed his arched back against her leg and mewed some more. Tina bent down and lifted the cat into her arms.

‘Hello, boy,’ she whispered, holding him close to her racing heart. Rascal twisted his body, a protest at being held too close. Maybe he sensed her unease. Tina let him jump to the ground.

Flicking the latch to stop the door from locking, Tina eased the front door fully open and picking up a shoe, wedge it under the weatherboard. She wanted a clear escape route.

She edged over to the bottom of the staircase and craned her neck to look down the hallway and through into the kitchen. A small pane of glass in the back door was broken; the intruder’s way in.

Tina took her phone from her handbag and tapped in 999, but didn’t press the call button. If it was Sasha, if he was in the house, she certainly didn’t want the police here. If, however, it turned out to be someone else, then that was a whole different matter.

‘Sasha? Are you there?’ she called down the hallway. ‘I’m on my own. It’s okay. I promise.’

Tina glanced back towards the open front door and the safety of the empty street. It was tempting, but what would she do then? Call the police? Call John? She mulled the latter option over in her mind. No, she didn’t want John here. Not tonight. Possibly not ever.

Tina took a deep breath in an attempt to settle her pulse rate. She needed to keep calm and clear-headed. Thinking of John was not conducive to the current situation.

Just as she knew straight away something wasn’t right when she first came home, instinctively she felt sure there was no one else in the house, despite her caution. She forced one foot in front of the other, stopping at the living room and looked through the crack between the door and the doorframe. The room appeared empty. She stepped in, scanning the room, noting its slightly dishevelled look. Things had been moved and replaced, but not to their exact position. The books on the shelf in the alcove weren’t lined up as neatly as usual, one or two were poking out, the photo frame on the mantelpiece wasn’t at its usual angle and the sun-catcher hanging from the sash window had been turned, the sailing boat no longer facing left but right. Someone had been in, clearly looking for something, but had done it with care. Not a callous burglar, to whom the crime was victimless, no this burglar, if indeed, she could call them that, had shown respect.

Tina ventured tentatively into the kitchen, pushing the door wide open and looking in, satisfying herself that her intuition was on point.

One of the kitchen drawers, the one found in most houses – reserved for all the odd bits and pieces that didn’t have a particular home – wasn’t shut property. The end of a screwdriver was sticking up, preventing its closure; a sure sign the contents had been riffled through.

Tina moved further into the kitchen and, looking over the breakfast bar to the back door, could see jagged pieces of broken glass had been scuffed to one side, as if the person responsible for the damage had a conscience and was keeping the fragments from being accidently trodden on.

The tension in Tina’s shoulders fled her taut muscles. No burglar would bother doing that. It would have been Sasha – that she was convinced of. He wouldn’t want her or Dimitri walking on the glass, or even the cat, for that matter.

She leant back against the worktop.

‘Tina?’ The deep but soft voice from the hallway made her jump. She spun round and managed to suppress the scream that attempted to erupt from her throat.