I see the lights before I reach the woods. An intermittent flashing blue that varies in intensity, so out of place here in the dark. I pull over as I get closer, realising that I am approaching a sea of police cars and I am very much over the limit. I grab a mint from the glove box and pull my hair in front of my face, afraid of being recognised yet again, afraid of who else I might bump into.
I can’t even get close but I stand as near as I can, wishing I had a dog or something to excuse myself as a passer-by. No one used to just go for a walk up here without a purpose of some kind, not in this area where you had the beautiful coastline nearby, and most definitely not this time of night. My very presence here puts me in danger; if the police start asking questions I don’t know if I have the energy to lie any more. So many people got away with so many things that summer, I would hate to think it was happening again. Hannah’s disappearance was the end for her; would this discovery in the woods signify the end for some other poor girl? They never found Hannah’s body. I always wondered where it was, because the only thing I ever knew for certain was that she was dead. I could tell them the things I do know but, on reflection, it isn’t much, nothing I can tell the police without sounding crazy. I could tell them that I keep seeing ghosts. But if I put myself forward then my life as I know it is over. Chris would never forgive me and my children would see me as a monster. So I stay camouflaged and pressed against a hedgerow. I see the officers busying themselves and the feeling of their excitement is real. They have a result. They have found a body. I can feel the wind turning, as though a big change is coming. For so long things have been off kilter, things have been out of place. The puzzle pieces that have been scattered for so long are starting to slot back into their rightful places. I can’t see the full picture yet but I know I will before long. The discovery of a body changes the rules of this game somewhat. People will pay attention now. Things like that just don’t happen around here. Do they?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Everything happens so quickly on television it’s easy to forget that in real time there are no editors there to cut out all the surplus and leave it on the cutting room floor. I wait for a good hour before a team turns up to dig the body out of the ground. I heard the officers talking; they needed a specialist to do the excavation to preserve evidence. There is no one even remotely equipped to deal with a job like this nearby and at this time of night. It will probably be a few more hours before a formal identification is made and I wonder if there is any way I can get closer without being seen. What am I even doing here? I should get on a plane and get as far away as humanly possible. I have a passport with me. Would anyone even miss me at this point? The fact that Chris still hasn’t called just proves how well everyone does without me. I don’t know who or what they might find in these woods. I don’t know if it will link back to me in any way. The thought of being questioned by the police makes me feel nauseous.
I sneak closer to see if they know anything, to see if I need to run again. I can’t hear any conversations; maybe it’s time to call it a night. I start to walk back to my car, an uneasy feeling following me – but that’s nothing new.
As I get closer to my car I can hear the rumble of a vehicle but I can’t see it. Is it even possible that I recognise the sound of the engine? I start to walk faster, sure that there is someone there. There is no parallel road here so the car must be behind me. I can see no headlights. I feel the panic rising and instead of walking faster I duck behind a tree and wait as the sound gets louder, closer. There on the road is an old brown car, just like the one they said went past on the night Mandy Green went missing. It’s shrouded in darkness so I can’t quite see who is driving. I know this car though, or I think I do. I have been drinking; can I even trust my eyes? The car rolls past and I wait behind the tree until I can hear nothing again. The blue lights still thump against the sky in the near distance, but the road is empty again. I get back in my car and pull a U-turn. I can’t investigate anything like this. I need to sleep it off.
I get back to the hotel smack in the middle of the night. I wonder what the concierge thinks I might have been doing all this time. I don’t know why this place brings out the worst in me. I don’t know why I can’t go an hour without a drink when I am here. Once in my room, I throw my clothes onto the floor and look out of the window. There’s no one there, but I imagine someone is watching me. I climb into the bed and wait for sleep, a million questions swimming around in my head. I should just get back in the car when I wake up and go back home. This was all a big mistake and I feel like I am on the brink of destroying myself by being here. I am putting everything and everyone I love in danger because I couldn’t stay away. I was gone, I was free. But the pull was too much. Curiosity killed the cat. I just hope it doesn’t kill me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I have missed the morning again. I wake up and my head is pounding, My minibar is empty apart from a Kit-Kat, which I eat greedily, hoping the sugar does something to alleviate the pain in my temples, which of course it doesn’t. I instinctively pick up my phone to check if Chris has called me. He hasn’t. I feel more alone than ever in this stupid hotel room. I dismiss my viewing of the brown car as nothing but my mind playing tricks on me. It wouldn’t be the first time. God knows I haven’t been myself for a long time. The car is just another ghost, the man who drove that car barely a memory anymore; why would he be following me? Why here and why now? Our paths crossed so briefly in the grand scheme of things but he was the catalyst. He was the beginning of the end.
I jump in the shower and wash away the sins of yesterday, determined to be a better me today, determined to stay sober at the very least. It’s past lunch by the time I leave the hotel wearing trainers and leggings, with my cardigan pulled tight around me. As I walk along the promenade I break out into a run, needing that feeling of freedom just for a moment, the feeling of moving too fast for anyone to catch up to me. The wind at my heels and the sea on my right. As I near the town I slow again, shifting my gaze to the ground in order to avoid eye contact, resuming my position as a stranger.
I pick a small café in town and order myself an espresso. There is a local newspaper on the next table; well-worn with the crosswords already filled in. I grab it and scan it for information about the body they found but there’s no mention of it. When the waitress brings me my coffee I try to act as normal as I can manage.
‘Is there any news about what they found up in the woods? Was it that girl?’
‘I’m sorry. They haven’t said anything yet. Might be on the telly news this afternoon. Things move slowly round here. Paper only comes out once a week.’
‘Thank you.’
I think about going up to the Spar where Mandy Green’s mother works again, but it feels a bit intrusive. I lived all this before, but where I was just visiting ghosts this was really happening for her and I needed to keep that in mind. It wasn’t all about me. And besides, I might be completely mistaken about what I think is happening, inserting my own bias into everything. I have to find out what’s going on. Like the lady said, everything moves at a snail’s pace around here.
I pull out my phone and look up a picture of Mandy Green online. Have you seen this girl? She looks a bit like Hannah. Is that why she was taken? Is that the connection? Long brown hair and definitely from a certain demographic, a little goth-y, a little angry looking, the kind of girl whose absence might take a little longer to notice and report.
The girl who served me my coffee comes back over to the table. I expect her to ask me if everything is all right with my order, because that’s what they always ask, but she doesn’t. She slides into the chair opposite me and leans forward, making sure no one else can hear, possibly not wishing to risk disturbing the other customers.
‘It wasn’t her in the woods. It wasn’t Mandy.’
‘How do you know?’ I say, relieved for the most part but also confused. Who could it be?
‘It was just on the radio. They said it was a
false alarm.’
‘Do you know her?’ I ask, realising they must be a similar age.
‘A bit. Not really,’ she says. I feel relieved.
‘So, it was a false alarm. They didn’t find a body?’
‘Oh, they found a body, it just wasn’t Mandy’s.’
‘It wasn’t? Did they say who they think it is?’ I ask, not sure if I am ready to hear whatever she is about to say.
‘No, but apparently it had been there for years.’
I pull back, her words completely unexpected – even though it was something I had feared. I had assumed that Hannah’s fate would always remain a mystery, and the thought that she may have been found felt strange. I always suspected whatever had happened to Hannah, she couldn’t have been buried far away. Was it her body in the woods? What if it wasn’t? Maybe there were more skeletons in this town than anyone was prepared for.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Then
It was still unbearably warm outside and Jasmine had sweated through the shorts and T-shirt that she had worn to the beach so she picked out her indigo tie-dyed summer dress, with thin straps and a nipped-in waist. Lisa had bought it a few years ago in Honduras. A safety pin held the strap in place at the back, but Jasmine still loved it. She put her slouch boots on and looked in the mirror, tousling her hair so it looked full and framed her face. The sun had lightened the front slightly and so her golden brown hair was even more golden than usual. Her parents were still at work and she glanced into the back garden, which was empty apart from the neighbour’s cat Malcolm, perched on the roof of the guest house. She could see that the wall was finished now, and her mother’s geraniums were on a tiered wooden shelving unit. She was a little scared to go outside in case Tim came out, although maybe it wasn’t fear that she was feeling but excitement, anticipation. She pushed those feelings aside for now; they were friends, that’s all. She grabbed a new book from the shelf and braved her way downstairs and out into the garden.
She lay on the sun lounger under the white calico parasol, her legs exposed to the sunshine, the skirt of her dress hitched up a little to make sure she tanned evenly. She kicked her boots onto the ground and opened the book. She had dark shades on so that her eyes were free to roam, to look over to the door of the guest house if it opened, while still maintaining the appearance of someone who didn’t care. She felt like a spy on a covert operation, a secret mission to gather as much information as she could on their mysterious lodger. On her way downstairs she’d seen his tatty brown car parked outside the front of the house, so she knew he was in the guest house. She wondered if he was awake, or if he was having an afternoon nap. He didn’t work regular hours; he just helped people as and when. He usually got up so early that she wouldn’t be surprised if he had to rest in the middle of the day. She found herself wondering how he slept, what he wore. She caught her breath at the thought of him lying in his bed, before quickly pushing that image aside. As she started to drift off to sleep, imagining him stretched out on his mattress, her book thumped against her chest, waking her.
She heard the toilet flush inside the guest house, and she was instantly alert. He was walking around now. She imagined him with his jeans hanging on his hips, unbuttoned, his hair a mess. Whenever she saw him, he was always so well presented with his hair combed back and away from his face, but she knew when he was alone that probably wasn’t the case and she thought she might like to see him a little messy. She wondered what his hair would feel like to the touch, his skin. She wondered if he ever thought those things about her. Since he had rescued her from Mr Morrell she’d found herself thinking of him as her knight in shining armour, and it was increasingly hard not to get carried away with it. He probably thought of her as some kid, if he even thought of her at all. She had seen him look at her mother before, when he thought no one was looking. Did he think about Lisa in the way Jasmine thought about him? She couldn’t stand the thought of it. She wished she was older; she wished she wasn’t invisible to him.
Her breathing, which had been shallow for a while now, got faster as she heard the seal on the door to the guest house release as he pushed the handle down. She pretended to look at her book but really she was watching him. He didn’t look at her once. He was wearing the jeans she imagined he would be wearing, and a crisp, fitted, white T-shirt, the short sleeves folded over a couple of times, exposing the tops of his arms. He went straight to the shed and pulled out the lawnmower. She watched him pulling on the cord to start it, the muscles in his slender arms tightening as he gripped the metal pull at the end of the wire. She forgot to turn the pages of her book. The sun burned her thighs, but she didn’t want to move lest she alerted him to her presence. He leaned against the handle of the mower as he walked, and his shoulders bulged a little at the back. It was so warm and already the centre of his shirt was slightly darker where he was sweating. He continued to mow the lawn and she continue to ignore her book.
‘What you reading?’ he called out to her over the sound of the lawnmower. She was startled by the sudden interaction.
She had to check the cover as she couldn’t even remember; she hadn’t looked at the pages for quite some time.
‘Slaughterhouse Five.’
‘Is that homework?’
He thought of her as a child, as though she couldn’t be reading a book like this of her own volition. As though she would have to be forced to read such a text. She felt a little angry that he couldn’t see past her age.
‘No, I just heard it was good.’
He smiled but there was something false about it, she didn’t believe it. There was something sad about him, something broken. She couldn’t put her finger on it until she realised – his eyes stayed flat even though his grin spread wide.
He stopped the lawn-mower and sat on the lounger next to her. Her body tensed at the proximity. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His face was shaded but he still had that squint as he looked at her. She pulled her sunglasses off.
‘Are you OK today? After the other night?’
‘Did you hear what happened?’
‘Hear what?’
She lowered her voice and leaned forward. ‘The man from that night, my teacher, he committed suicide. He jumped off the cliff. I went to the beach with my friend earlier but everyone is talking about it and so I decided to come home and hang out here. The police came and spoke to me about it this morning,’ she said, trying to see if he reacted at all to the news. His face remained unchanged. Maybe she was wrong about what she had seen.
‘And you spoke to the police?’
‘I told them everything I could remember. Did they speak to you yet?’
‘Are you upset that he’s dead?’ he said quietly. She could see a flicker of something behind his eyes as he stared at her. It was the thing that was missing when he smiled. A little wickedness maybe.
Could she trust him and tell him the truth? There was something about him that commanded it. Even though she could feel his dishonesty with every movement of his lips, she still couldn’t lie to him.
‘No, I don’t think I am,’ she said quietly. She felt excited as she said it, as if she was telling him a big secret. Another secret that they shared.
‘I told you that you would be safer now.’ He smiled. She couldn’t help thinking of it as a confession of some kind, a nod to some action he had taken, just for her.
‘So you’re off to college next year?’ he asked, changing the subject, breaking the invisible string that she felt pulling her towards him sometimes.
‘After the summer is over, just in the city,’ she said, wishing he wouldn’t keep mentioning the fact that she was at school.
‘And you spend your summers on the beach or in the garden?’
‘We usually go abroad to do charity projects in underprivileged countries, but we can’t this year because of my dad’s surgery.’
She felt stupid as she said it; it was her parents’ thing and she just tagged along.
> ‘That’s very noble of you and your parents.’ He smiled that dead smile again, something else behind his eyes. Something dark that made her regret her momentary loss of composure.
‘They do most of the work.’
His face lightened again and it was as if that last slip of his mask had never happened.
‘You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re not like other girls. I bet you’ve got really big plans for your future.’
She didn’t know how to respond to that comment. He was still squinting and looking straight at her. Was this another case of her not understanding the subtext of what someone was trying to say?
‘I don’t really know what I want to do.’
‘Must be nice to have a future. Mummy and Daddy looking out for you, making sure nothing bad happens. Well, Daddy wasn’t there the other night, was he? I was the one who kept you safe. I was the one who made sure that man didn’t hurt you.’
After a few moments of staring, the corner of his mouth broke into a side smile. He smacked his hands on his knees and went back to the lawn-mower. He looked at her as he started the engine again.
She sat forward and pulled her boots back on before getting up and walking into the kitchen to fix herself a drink. His words circled in her mind. Was he confessing to her that he had hurt Mr Morrell? Did he do that for her? She tried to ignore the feeling of excitement that bubbled under her skin. It wasn’t the only thing she could feel but she chose to ignore that even more.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jasmine watched the guest house from the bedroom window as she lay on her bed. She kept her lights out and propped her head up on her pillows, her eyelids growing heavy as she concentrated on the dim light until it went out. Apart from those first few conversations when she thought Tim was flirting with her, his intentions seemed to have changed completely now. She wasn’t even sure if the conversation she had had with him in the garden about Mr Morrell had actually happened. Maybe it was all in her mind.
The Heatwave Page 10
