Circle of Doubt

by Buchanan, Tracy

  ‘Great, thanks for coming,’ Dele said to everyone. He helped a sad-looking Isla hand out the party bags as he eyed Emma, who was still glaring at Tatjana.

  ‘Can you take Isla upstairs to get changed?’ Dele asked Emma’s mum. ‘She got juice all over her dress.’

  Emma’s mother nodded, looking at the two couples. Then she took Isla upstairs as Ray and Harriet disappeared into the kitchen to do the washing up.

  ‘Shall we have that chat now?’ Lawrence asked.

  ‘Actually, I’d like to save that for another time,’ Dele replied.

  Emma looked at him, confused. ‘I thought you said we’d all talk after the party?’

  ‘No, another time,’ Dele said, his eyes deep in hers. ‘I mean it, Emma.’

  She fought back tears. What was going on?

  ‘The boys are exhausted anyway,’ Lawrence said, picking up a sleepy Phoenix. ‘Another time is fine. Come on,’ he said to Tatjana, taking her hand and pulling her away.

  When the Belafontes had left the house, Dele pulled an A4 padded envelope from his coat pocket.

  ‘This was posted through our letterbox,’ he said. ‘It was addressed to me . . . and Isla,’ he added.

  ‘What is it?’ Emma asked.

  He pulled a USB stick out and a document with the title: Transcript Of Interview With Colin Evans.

  Her dad!

  Dele looked into Emma’s eyes. ‘I haven’t had a chance to read the whole transcript yet but . . . is everything you told me about what happened to Harriet true?’

  Emma’s eyes flitted down to the USB stick he was holding, then back to her husband again.

  This was it. This was the moment she always knew deep down inside would happen, the moment she’d been dreading for the past fourteen years.

  The truth was all finally coming out.

  She knew it the moment she saw the necklace on that dead crow.

  She just never expected her dad to be the one to let it out.

  Why would he do that?

  Emma looked towards the kitchen where her sister was now watching them through the glass door with sad eyes.

  ‘Emma?’ Dele asked.

  Emma turned back to Dele.

  ‘How did Harriet really die?’ he asked.

  Harriet blew Emma a kiss, then she faded away, and Emma was alone again, her sister just a distant memory.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Saturday 21st November

  12.40 p.m.

  ‘I’ll explain everything,’ Emma said, trying to understand what her father might have said, why he said it . . . and to whom. ‘But not here – not with Isla in the house.’

  Dele nodded. ‘Then we walk.’ He went to the kitchen, poking his head in. ‘We’re just going out for a walk, Ray,’ he said.

  ‘In this weather?’ Ray asked.

  ‘It’s not raining any more. Can you guys keep an eye on Isla?’

  Ray nodded. Emma could see that he wanted to ask if everything was okay, but he was always so careful not to interfere.

  Emma and Dele grabbed their coats, then stepped outside. It was cold, almost dark beneath the weight of the black clouds above, a storm brewing within them. They walked silently down Forest Grove’s main road until they entered the woods, and beneath the canopy of branches Emma finally felt able to talk.

  ‘Most of what you know about the accident is true,’ she said sadly. ‘There’s just one missing detail, a vital one.’

  The accident had happened a year after Emma met Dele; a year after her sister’s engagement party. Harriet had defied all the cynics and had actually stayed with her fiancé Alba, returning to Dartmouth for her hen party with Emma.

  Harriet had kept in touch with all her old school friends. Despite all the new friends she’d made in London, it was those early friends she’d had when she first started school that remained the closest ones. That was the thing with Harriet: when she made a friend, it was for life. It was difficult for Emma. Difficult seeing just how easily Harriet and her friends fell into their old ways again. As she’d watched them doing their silly dance routines in the local nightclub during Harriet’s hen night – Harriet dressed in a little black dress and a bright-pink sash screaming ‘BRIDE2B’ – Emma had felt even more left out.

  ‘Here, have some of this,’ her sister had said, stumbling over to her with a shot of something.

  ‘Wait,’ Emma said, grabbing her arm to make her stay before she darted off to dance again. ‘Sit, just for a moment, will you?’

  Harriet had smiled, sitting next to her big sister. ‘I’m so pleased you’re out with us,’ she’d slurred.

  ‘Me too,’ Emma had lied. ‘Here, I have something for you.’

  She’d reached into her bag and pulled out the necklace she’d got her sister: a black tweed necklace with a hand-cut pale-pink gemstone. ‘It’s a rose quartz,’ she explained. ‘It means unconditional love. Sister love.’

  ‘Aw sis, you didn’t have to!’ Harriet had said, taking it and rubbing her thumb over the jewel as she smiled.

  ‘I just want you to remember me when you’re living with Alba, that’s all.’ It was hard for Emma knowing her sister would be moving out soon, leaving her alone in that flat they’d shared.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Harriet said. ‘We’ll see each other all the time. You, me, Alba and Dele. Double-date central.’

  Emma had smiled. ‘I know. I just wanted to get something for you, that’s all.’

  Harriet had given her a hug. ‘Well, I love it! Now come dance. I want you completely off your face within thirty minutes – deal? I need Crazy Emma to come out to play tonight.’

  Emma had laughed. ‘Deal.’

  Over the next two hours, Emma did as her sister commanded, drinking shot after shot. She hardly remembered that part of the night, just the non-stop dancing, the big hugs with her sister, even her sister’s friends saying what a laugh the usually reserved Emma was when she was drunk.

  Emma distinctly remembered thinking, Maybe this is what I need to do more, get absolutely hammered. Maybe then I’ll have more friends.

  When the night came to an end, Emma and Harriet walked home alone together. The club was just a twenty-minute walk from their parents’ house. It was unseasonably mild for November but clouds were gathering above so they hurried as they walked.

  ‘You’re fun when you’re drunk,’ Harriet had said, her heels dangling from her hands as she walked barefoot along the promenade, their house within sight now.

  ‘Oh charming, I’m not fun usually?’ Emma had said as they crossed the road.

  ‘You know what I mean!’

  ‘Maybe I should drink more often then.’

  ‘You don’t need drink!’ Harriet said, taking her sister’s hand and gently squeezing it. ‘You just need to let your inhibitions go a bit more. I know more people will be drawn to you that way.’

  Emma had come to a stop, stung. ‘Thanks, Harriet,’ she’d said. ‘So people aren’t drawn to me?’

  ‘Oh Em, you’re so sensitive sometimes,’ Harriet said, rolling her eyes. ‘Forget I even said it.’

  ‘No,’ Emma had said. ‘Tell me what you mean.’

  ‘You know what I mean. You just need to let your hair down.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to say. I’m not like you.’

  ‘Come on, yes you are! Crazy Em is just like me!’ She swirled around, laughing up at the sky. ‘Crazy, crazy, crazy!’

  Emma had watched her, her eyes filling with tears. Harriet was so clueless. She had no idea how lucky she was. She had no idea how painful it was to watch her from afar and try so hard to be like her, but fail miserably.

  ‘You just have to shake it out,’ Harriet had said, coming to a stop and shaking herself, her blonde hair shimmying around her. ‘Shake, shake, shake. Be adventurous. Lose your inhibitions.’

  ‘Fine, then,’ Emma said, grabbing her sister’s hand as she marched her to their parents’ house just as rain began to fall. ‘Let’s go.’
<
br />   ‘Go where?’ Harriet had said, giggling.

  Emma fumbled around in her bag, finding her car keys. ‘That club in Totnes, the one that stays open until four.’

  Harriet burst out laughing. ‘That club is full of mentalists.’

  ‘Exactly! You told me to be more mental!’ Emma said, spinning around as Harriet laughed.

  ‘But it’s agggggges away.’

  ‘I’ll drive,’ Emma said, pulling her sister towards her car . . . a small red Fiat.

  Harriet came to a stop, shaking her head. ‘Em, that’s ridiculous. You’re drunk.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Emma lied. ‘I stopped drinking after that first shot, which was hours ago.’

  ‘Really?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘Sure. Come on, before we get soaked,’ she said as rain started coming down harder. ‘Let’s be crazy!’

  Harriet shrugged. ‘What the hell? It is my hen night, after all.’

  Emma walked to the car, struggling to operate the handle, she was so drunk. When she eventually did, she slid into the driver’s seat as her sister threw herself into the passenger seat, giggling. ‘This is going to be awesome,’ she said, ‘a last night out before I run off and make babies with Alba.’

  Emma switched the engine on. Above them, a curtain twitched and she looked up to see their father watching them. For a moment, she thought about switching the engine off and going back inside.

  Oh God, how she wished she had!

  But instead, she just gave her father a defiant look. Now who’s the one with some spark about them? she thought.

  Then she slammed her foot on the accelerator and the car shot out of the drive, speeding down the road, windscreen wipers going back and forth as Harriet clutched on to the door handle. ‘I haven’t even got my seatbelt in, Em,’ she’d said, trying to shove it in, but too drunk to get it right.

  ‘Here,’ Emma had said, leaning over. ‘I’ll do it.’

  She was so focused on trying to sort her sister’s seatbelt out, she didn’t even notice she’d swerved over to the other side of the road . . . and was heading right for a lamp post. She just felt the impact, heard the screech of wheels, saw the world spin as the car turned over.

  ‘As you know, Harriet died straight away,’ Emma said now to Dele as he tried to digest what she was telling him. ‘She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I was, though. I didn’t get hurt at all. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. Just what Dad told me. How he ran out, how he saw it all . . . saw Harriet.’ She muffled a sob with her hand. ‘I don’t know how he managed to wrap his head around it all so quickly, probably all his years in the police. But he knew if I was seen in the driver’s seat, it would be over for me. So he pulled me out, and – and he moved Harriet over to the driver’s side. Then he told me never ever to say I was in that car. He’d lost one daughter, he didn’t want to lose another.’ Emma frowned. ‘And yet he has told someone, clearly.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Dele whispered, hands on either side of his face in shock.

  ‘He made me run back inside before anyone saw me. Our neighbours came out just as I walked inside – the Coopers, the ones you saw in Dartmouth the other day?’ Dele nodded. ‘I always wondered if they saw me. They never said anything if they did. The sound of the woman’s screams when she saw Harriet . . .’ Emma shuddered. ‘I’ll never forget them.’

  ‘It all makes sense now,’ Dele said. ‘Why your father is the way he is. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I promised my dad. I – I was scared. Only he and I know.’

  Dele looked at the USB stick and transcript. ‘But now he’s told someone else . . . someone else who wants me to know. Why?’

  ‘Tatjana,’ Emma whispered.

  ‘Maybe,’ Dele admitted.

  ‘So you believe me now?’

  ‘I don’t know. Jesus,’ he said, pacing back and forth. ‘If she is Jade, then this would suit her, having you out of the picture – because you know if this gets out, you’ll go to prison, right?’

  Emma pressed her lips together. Of course she knew.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket. She needed to call her dad, find out what the hell was going on. But when she tried his number, it went to voicemail. The message she left was simple: ‘Call me, Dad . . . please.’

  ‘We should go see Tatjana,’ Dele said when Emma put her phone down. ‘We can talk to her, reason with her. Maybe if Lawrence knows, he can help us talk to her too?’

  Emma was silent. She couldn’t think properly.

  ‘Come on,’ Dele said, taking her hand and leading her deeper into the forest towards the Belafontes’ house. She could see how rattled he was about this. He knew the seriousness of it and the implications for their little family.

  So did Emma, of course she did. But in that moment, all she felt was numbness. It was the same after the crash. She’d seen her sister dead in front of her, the unfamiliar dullness of her eyes, the horrific gash at the back of her head. It felt like she was sleepwalking when she’d gone back to the house in darkness and sat in her room. Even when she heard her mother get up in the room next door at the sound of their neighbour’s screams – so loud they penetrated the earplugs she always wore at night – Emma didn’t feel anything. She wasn’t able to process her emotions. She simply went mute.

  ‘She’s grieving,’ was an easy way to explain it away. But it was guilt. Guilt so profound and nightmarish, all she could do was shut down as it spread inside her.

  The funeral was the first time she imagined Harriet sitting beside her and making quips about what her friends were wearing. Emma began to feel something, the numbness dissipating when she imagined her sister there next to her. So she kept her sister close, so strong, feeling so real, until one day her dad came down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to find Emma talking to Harriet.

  Or to nothing, as he saw it.

  He got her ‘proper help’, as he called it. Not the NHS therapist she’d been assigned, but a private psychiatrist based in a centre in London, which Emma ended up staying in for a few weeks. But all that did was make her learn how to pretend better . . . pretend that she didn’t imagine Harriet with her all the time, because, my God, that was better than accepting that she was gone forever.

  Harriet did disappear for a while, though, when things became settled and a busy family life took over for Emma. But in moments of crisis or worry – like the past few weeks – Harriet would return, and Emma would take comfort in her presence.

  Emma peered behind her now, seeking her sister among the trees, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘They’re not in,’ Dele said when they got to the Belafontes’ house. ‘Do you have Lawrence’s number?’

  Emma nodded, getting out her phone. She was starting to feel that way again: numb. Sleepwalking. Not quite there.

  But then she thought of Isla. Isla needed her here, right here. But then maybe some detachment could help her now? Maybe it could help her protect her family.

  ‘Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way?’ she said.

  ‘What other way is there?’ Dele asked desperately.

  ‘Maybe – maybe I need to just come clean, tell the police, tell social services.’

  ‘No!’ Dele said.

  She grabbed his arm as raindrops started to fall on their heads. ‘It would be better coming from me than Tatjana, right? Tatjana – Jade – wants to have Isla for herself. That includes taking her away from you, too, because surely she knows you’d never allow her to have Isla. At least if I tell the authorities before she does, I can make sure you’re untouched. You will be with Isla, even if I can’t be.’

  As she said that, her voice broke. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to pull it together. This was the way it had to be now.

  ‘Please, no, Emma,’ Dele said, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. ‘You might go to prison. Think of Isla.’

  ‘I don’t deserve Isla anyway. I killed her aunt, didn’t I?’

  Dele pulled her i
nto his arms. ‘Oh, darling, all these years,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve carried it all these years.’

  ‘I should never have driven in that state. I killed her.’ She realised her voice sounded monotone, emotionless.

  Dele tilted her chin up, examining her face. Could he see that familiar numbness descending upon her? ‘It was an accident,’ he said.

  She pulled away from him. ‘I’ll call the police on Monday. It’s the only way.’

  He shook his head but it was the only way, she needed to convince him of that. She stroked his cheek. ‘I love you so much, Dele. You don’t deserve all this.’

  ‘Neither do you.’

  ‘That means a lot, your faith in me. So you need to trust me now when I say it’s the only way.’ He went to open his mouth to say something but she put her finger to his lips. ‘Can we just go home now? I want to spend some time with Isla – it is her birthday after all.’

  He paused for a moment then reluctantly nodded, and they walked back home.

  That evening, Emma sat in the living room alone with her headphones on, ready to listen to her father’s ‘interview’. She looked up at the ceiling towards her and Dele’s bedroom. Isla was asleep with Dele upstairs, both curled up together on their bed. When they’d got back from the walk, Emma had tried to act normally. Her mother had watched her with hooded eyes, clearly worried about her. She probably thought it was because the anniversary of Harriet’s death was a week away. If she only knew it was so much worse than that . . . that Emma had killed Harriet.

  When they’d kissed goodbye after dinner, her mother had stroked her cheek. ‘You look exhausted.’ She’d wanted to collapse into her mother’s arms then, tell her that yes, she was exhausted. But instead she’d just smiled. ‘I’m fine, Mum.’

  Emma pursed her lips together now, stifling a sob as she looked at the USB icon on her desktop. Then she clicked on it, pressing play.

  The first thing she heard was her father’s voice. The sound of it sent a heady mixture of emotions through her: love, guilt, anger, sadness. She noticed there was even more of a slur in it, too, deeper than the slur that had always been there for as long as she remembered.

  ‘I haven’t told a soul about this,’ he said.