by Sue Fortin
I reach the path below and for a moment I’m not sure which way to go. I’m in an alleyway at the rear of the property. I’ve lost my sense of direction. To my left is blackness, to my right the glow of the street lighting calls me. I’m running down the alleyway, trying to keep my plastered arm as close to my body as possible to avoid jolting it so much. The pain is shooting up my forearm and through my shoulder, but I ignore it. All I can think about is getting away.
As I reach the end of the alleyway and burst out onto the street, I don’t wait to look behind me. The street is empty, the storm keeping everyone inside where it’s dry and safe. I don’t think I’m going to be able to outrun Tom. He’s a fitness fanatic and running is his thing. I need to hide from him. I run to the end of the street, pausing for only a second to look behind me. The dark, shadowy figure of Tom looms after me.
I can see the seafront ahead and I charge that way. My hair slashes at my face where it has come loose from the ponytail and the strength of the wind coming in off the sea almost knocks me off my feet. I hurtle along the path, my foot slipping on a wet drain cover, which almost has me tumbling down into the gutter. A car blasts its horn as it drives past.
I wave my arm frantically. ‘Stop! Stop!’ It carries on, the red tail-lights disappearing out of sight.
And then I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder. I spin away. The pain shooting through my broken arm makes me scream. I hurtle across the road, not looking to see if anything is coming. Another blast of a car horn and the screech of tyres, but somehow I find myself on the other side of the road and running down the promenade.
The bright lights of the pier lie before me. If I can get there, surely someone will help me. I keep running, cradling my broken arm in the other. I can feel my pace slowing as I become more and more tired. The pier looms bigger and brighter; it’s my beacon of hope. Somehow I reach it and I burst through one of the entrance archways and out onto the boardwalk.
The place is deserted. I’m not sure of the time, but it’s dark and I guess some of the attractions have closed for the night. The fairground rides at the end of the pier are still open, though. I can see the lights and hear the music.
I’m about halfway before I hear running footsteps behind me. I turn and Tom is just a few metres away, determination etched on his face. I look around frantically for someone, but there is no one. I can hear myself crying as I know I’m not going to get away – and then he has me. His hand claws at my arm. I scream with pain and he bundles me into the white lattice railings of the pier.
‘Get off of me!’ I yell. I try to fight him off but he’s too strong. ‘Oh, God, Tom. Stop, please.’ I’m resorting to begging. I just want this whole nightmare to end. I feel the energy seep away from me and Tom lets go of my arm.
‘You should never have gone poking around,’ says Tom. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Clare, and there is still a way out of this.’
‘If it was money you wanted why didn’t you just ask? I could have helped you.’
‘And what a lovely gesture that would have been. Clare Tennison giving not only her husband handouts but her ex-boyfriend too.’ Tom is almost snarling. ‘I do have some pride, you know.’ His rapid mood swings frighten me.
‘So you and Martha hatched a plan to get the trust fund money and split it between you?’
‘You’re quite good at all this, but then that’s why you’re such a good solicitor.’ He takes a step closer.
‘How did you know she was Martha and not Alice?’
‘At the party. I’d gone up to use the bathroom because someone was in the downstairs toilet and her bedroom door was open. She was on her hands and knees looking for something. I thought it was an earring. I went to help her, but she was really quite rude, demanding I leave,’ says Tom. ‘She wouldn’t look at me and then I saw the contact lens box. She made the mistake of looking up at the box and then at me. I saw it straight away.’
‘Her eyes?’
‘Yeah. Well, one of them. She’d lost a contact lens and was trying to find it. When she looked up, she had one blue eye and one green eye. It was game over for her.’
‘And that’s what you two were talking about in the garden later?’
‘That’s right. She took a bit of persuading but she had no choice,’ says Tom. He smiles at me. ‘What do you think happened next?’
Jesus, he’s loving this. He has that smug little look on his face, the one he always has when he thinks he’s been particularly clever.
‘I don’t know. I’m not as smart as you,’ I say, going for the flattery angle.
Tom sighs and looks up to the dark sky in an exaggerated look of despair. ‘I had things I needed to repay. Not just the financial kind. I needed to repay you.’
‘Me?’
‘For our Oxford days. For loving Luke. For having the life with him that I wanted to have with you.’
‘I had no idea you felt like this,’ I say, genuinely shocked by the intensity of his words and emotions.
‘Of course you didn’t, you never fucking asked. I tried to tell you, but you always rejected me and made me feel this small.’ He holds up his finger and thumb millimetres apart. ‘Even tonight, when you have no one to turn to, you still turn away from me.’
He rests his hands on the railings and looks out over the water. ‘Course, this could all come down to Leonard. He has, after all, been cooking the books of the trust fund and creaming money out of it for his own needs.’
‘But it’s not Leonard, is it?’ I feel such a fool to have been taken in for a while with all the crap Tom told me. ‘Those files, they’re such fiction. You’ve made them all up. You knew I wouldn’t be able to understand them just at a glance like that. You knew I’d take your word for it.’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Clare. You and the money were two separate issues, which happened to dovetail quite nicely in the end.’
‘And you really think I want anything to do with you after all this? You can’t get away with it.’
‘I’ll give it a damn good try. Like I said, I have it pretty much covered.’ He pushes himself up from the side rail and takes a step closer to me.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘It can be good between us. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Over my dead body.’
‘Tut, tut, you really shouldn’t say things like that.’
I go to walk away, to call his bluff, but he grabs me, pinching my broken arm at the top, which makes me squeal in pain. ‘You’re hurting me.’
‘Not as much as you’ve hurt me.’ He releases his grip a fraction. ‘Why you stay with Luke, I don’t know. He’s a freeloader. Sponging off you while he ponces around painting fucking pictures. What sort of job is that? You deserve better than him. He can’t be trusted. I showed you that photo of him and Martha. What more do I have to do?’
‘I don’t care. I love him. I don’t love you.’ And it’s true. Whatever has happened between Luke and Martha pales into insignificance after everything else that has happened. I love my husband and we’re strong enough to sort things out. I won’t let my family be broken, not without putting up a fight.
‘How can you say that? He’s treated you like shit recently.’
‘He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children. I love him.’
Tom throws his head back and lets out a wild laugh, which catches on the wind and bounces off the kiosks and windbreaks behind us. Tom eventually quells his laughter and looks at me. The smile on his face has no warmth to it. ‘He’s the father of your children and that makes what he’s done all right?’
‘Yes. Yes, it does,’ I say defiantly.
‘Oh dear, Clare, it looks like it’s going to have to be Plan B,’ says Tom. He cocks his head to one side and looks at me with pity. ‘Remember that day, not long after we had graduated and I came over to see you. Your mum told me you were upset about not being able to find Alice?’
I think back. ‘Vaguely.’
‘We went to
The Crow’s Nest for a drink?’
I do remember it now. I’d had quite a lot to drink, as it happened. It had taken me a couple of days to get over it. I think I’d almost given myself alcohol poisoning. Mum had been furious that I’d got myself into such a state. Later that week, when it was Nadine’s birthday, I had still felt hungover and we’d gone to the pub with a load of other friends and that was the night I bumped into Luke. It was the first time I’d seen him in years. I wasn’t drinking that night and Luke was the designated driver with his mates, so we spent the night chatting and consoling each other about having to be sober with a load of drunk friends.
‘Yes, I remember,’ I say to Tom.
‘And you know that dream we always joke about, the one where you were in a Playboy photoshoot?’
I can feel the world around me grinding to a halt. The lights dim and the music of the funfair all but disappears. ‘Yes,’ I say.
Tom takes his phone from his pocket and taps at the screen. A picture appears and he turns it so I can see it properly.
Chapter 30
I gasp at what I see on the phone. I try to snatch it from Tom’s hand, but he pulls it away too quickly. Over Tom’s shoulder I see a figure hurrying along the boardwalk towards us. I can’t see clearly who it is, but it looks familiar. I think it’s Leonard. I can’t let Leonard see what Tom has on his phone.
Tom is distracted and turns to see what I’m looking at. I seize the moment. In one fluid movement I take a step closer to him and knee him right in the balls. He yells in pain, doubles up, clutching his groin. I grab his mobile with my one good hand and wrestle it from his grasp. I stagger back and shove the phone into my trouser pocket.
Tom isn’t deterred by my attack and, fuelled by what’s at stake, he lunges for me, pushing me against the iron bar. The bar is pressing against my spine and the weight of Tom’s body against me is making it hard to breathe. I try to lift my knee to once again make contact with his groin, but I can’t. Tom pushes harder against me and I feel my feet losing contact with the ground.
He’s shouting at me to give him the phone. He’s holding my right arm with one hand, while using his other to try to find which pocket I’ve put the phone in. As his weight transfers slightly to the right, I try to squirm away to the left, but he forces me back. My feet come completely off the ground and I tip even further backwards. I can hear running feet and Leonard shouting. Shards of rain pummel my face and I feel myself slipping. The centre of gravity shifts and the night sky above me slides away.
Tom is still on top of me as I feel my body roll over the railing. I can see the dark water below, the white tips of the waves crashing over and roaring as they slam into the rushing water beneath. It takes forever to fall. At some point I lose contact with Tom. His hand slips from my wrist.
At first I think I’ve missed the water completely and hit the shoreline, such is the force and pressure against me. But then I carry on falling, but slower this time, as water rushes up my nose and into my ears. I keep my mouth closed. It’s silent under the water. I can feel myself being dragged down. It’s a high tide; the water is deeper than normal. It’s quiet and peaceful and I want to stay here. Away from all the madness in the world above me. Down here no one can harm me.
An image of Luke and the girls flashes before me and in that instant I know I must survive. I can’t give myself up to the English Channel like this. I start to kick my legs wildly and draw myself up with my one good arm. The plaster cast hinders my progress. I can’t make out which way I’m supposed to go. Which way is up? I squint open my eyes and am surprised by how much I can see in front of me. It’s not as dark and black as I imagined. My instinct is to look up and I can see the lights of the pier shimmering way above me. They look like little fairy lights on a Christmas tree.
I push upwards. My lungs are burning and my body wants me to take a breath. My mind knows I can’t. Not here, not in all this water. Just a few more meters. The urge to breathe is overwhelming me. My lungs are on fire. I’m nearly there.
I burst out of the water and gasp frantically for air, only to be pounded by a breaking wave, which takes me back under. I fight my way back to the surface. I’m more prepared for the next wave and manage to hold my breath. I can hear shouting from above and then a splash. I look beyond the crest of the next wave and I see something floating in the water. It’s a lifebelt. I make clumsy overarm movements with my right arm. My left arm is heavy, the plaster sodden with water. Another wave breaks and this time taking me with it. I’m dragged towards the life ring and with the tips of my fingers managed to grasp the rope. I pull it towards me. I’m so out of breath. I’m panting, trying to take oxygen on board, refilling my lungs. I can’t get the life ring over my head. My plastered arm is getting in the way. I cling onto it and feel the tide take me closer to shore. If I can hold on, someone will rescue me. I just need to hold on. Just a bit longer.
I can feel myself slipping. My eyes are heavy and my arm is so tired. In fact, my whole body and mind are tired and cold. The deep water below beckons me. I could just float away, back into the depths, where it’s quiet and calm. I remind myself of all the reasons to stay alive and my body fights back again.
With each wave that tosses me forwards, the shoreline gets closer and closer. And then there are figures wading into the water. I hear the splashing and sloshing of the legs as they try to get to me as quickly as possible. I reach down with my feet and I can just about touch the bottom. I’m safe. I’m not going to die.
Two pairs of arms drag me to the shore. Blue lights pulsate up above on the seafront. The uniformed officers drag me onto the beach. One speaks rapidly into his radio, calling for assistance, summoning an ambulance. The other sits me on the shingles, grabs the jacket he must have discarded before wading in, and wraps it around my shoulders.
‘You all right, love? What happened?’ I look up at the pier. My body is shaking violently from the cold and shock. ‘You came over the side, did you? Was there anyone else with you?’
Was there anyone else with me? I look out to sea, scanning the waves as they crash onto the beach. I look back and I see Leonard careering down the stones towards me.
‘Clare! Jesus Christ. Are you okay?’
‘Do you know this lady, sir?’
‘Yes.’ Leonard arrives and sits down next to me, putting his arms around me. ‘She’s my daughter.’
I look up at Leonard but don’t say anything. It seems odd him saying ‘daughter’, but I let it go. I can deal with it later.
‘Were you with her when she fell? Is there anyone else in the water?’ asks the police officer.
‘I was on the pier but further away. I didn’t see what happened. One minute she was there. The next, she was gone. I threw the life ring in.’
‘What’s your name?’ the police officer asks me.
‘Clare Tennison.’
‘Okay, Clare, this is very important. Was there anyone with you? Did anyone else go into the water?’
I look from the police officer to Leonard and back again. Tom can’t swim. I should be telling them that he’s out there. Drowning. If I tell them and they rescue him, he could ruin everything. If I don’t tell them, then all his secrets go to the seabed with him. Can I do that? Can I let another human drown?
‘She was on her own,’ says Leonard before I can speak.
‘Okay, you’re certain?’
‘Yes. Absolutely.’
‘No!’ I cry out. ‘No. I wasn’t alone. Tom is in the water. He can’t swim.’
The police officer has a right to look surprised. ‘I thought you said she was alone.’
‘I didn’t see anyone else,’ says Leonard.
The police officer calls to his colleague and together they wade into the water, their torch beams scanning the waves. One speaks urgently into his radio. I can’t hear what they’re saying.
‘Tom can’t swim,’ I repeat looking at the officers.
‘Probably a good thing,’ says Leonard.
They break the news to me the next morning. Tom’s body was recovered from the water at first light. The weather conditions were too poor the night before to carry out a full search-and-rescue operation. They tell me he probably drowned within the first few minutes of entering the water.
I cry for Tom. My friend of many years. I cry for the years we spent together and the good times we had. How we made it through university together and then worked together. He was one of my best friends. I don’t cry for the Tom who deceived me. The Tom who has stolen money from the trust fund and the Tom who tried to blame Leonard.
‘I’ve had my suspicions about him for a while now,’ says Leonard, as he sits beside me in my hospital room. I’ve been taken back to the same room. Luke is on his way back from his parents with the girls, although I’ve asked him not to bring them to the hospital.
‘Why didn’t you do anything if you thought he was up to something?’ I ask. ‘Maybe it didn’t have to get to this point.’
‘Proof. I couldn’t prove anything. You know Tom’s a whiz on the old computer. He has set it all up to look like I’m the one who’s crooked. After everything I’ve done for that boy. I never thought he’d turn on me like that.’
‘He must have had his reasons.’
‘Gambling debts, a messy divorce, maintenance payments. All the classic things.’
‘I wish he’d come to me and told me. I would have helped him. I would have given him the bloody money. He didn’t need to steal it.’
‘Trouble with Tom, he thought he was far too clever to get caught,’ says Leonard.
‘He needed help. Not just the financial kind.’
‘Clare, there’s something I want to ask you.’
