by Carys Jones
‘At some point you need to sleep.’
Amanda turned her head sharply back towards the house, where her mother was just stepping out through the back door, once again bundled up in her sumptuous navy silk robe. The fabric was so dark, so rich, that she almost blended in with the backdrop of the starry night sky.
‘Sorry, did I wake you?’
‘Yes.’ Corrine sat down beside her daughter on the bench. Her Estée Lauder perfume began to overpower the natural scent of her beloved flowers. ‘But it’s fine. Wake me up all you want. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘You’re not,’ Corrine countered sharply.
Amanda looked out towards the moon which cast a rippled reflection upon the surface of the ocean. The little rose garden was always such a tranquil place, a place where Amanda could sit and relieve herself of whatever burden was resting upon her shoulders simply by absorbing the serene atmosphere that gathered amongst the rose vines. But not this night. She could feel her mother watching her, seeing through her words.
‘Fine, I’m not okay,’ Amanda conceded before her mother could say anything else. ‘I’ve lost my husband and I feel like I’ve lost myself too.’ She let her words drift away from them, out towards the open water. A pair of salty tears danced down her cheeks. ‘I’m desperately trying to hold myself together for Ewan but…’ Leaning forward, she dropped her head into her hands and then felt the calming pressure of her mother’s hand against her back. ‘How did you do it?’ she coughed as she released one hand to glance back at Corrine. ‘When Dad died, how did you carry on like you did? You always seemed so strong, especially back then.’
‘I had you,’ Corrine’s eyes crinkled as she smiled, but they glistened in the moonlight with fresh tears. ‘You were my reason to get up each morning. To tidy the house. To keep going.’
‘And if you hadn’t had me?’
Because Ewan wasn’t truly hers, was he? The Scottish authorities could still track him down and demand Amanda hand him into their custody.
‘Then I’d have done it for him. For his memory.’ The tears that had fallen upon Corrine’s cheeks sparkled like stars. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted me to wallow in my sorrow. And Will wouldn’t want you to.’
‘It’s just not fair,’ Amanda sniffed and sat up, furiously wiping at her eyes. ‘I mean I’ve lost Will, and so has Ewan.’
‘Life is never fair,’ Corrine whispered pragmatically. ‘But then you were forced to figure that out long ago.’
2
The waves roared beneath her like a hungry beast. Amanda’s hands were glued to the arm that was holding her over the edge as she swung in the breeze like a pendulum.
‘Daddy, help me.’ It was difficult to speak the words through her chattering teeth. The arm pulled her higher and she peered over the top of the cliff and saw him braced on his knees, his face pinched in agony. Her father. Her hero. There was a powerful gust of wind and as it blasted them both her father’s face changed. His hair became darker, thicker, his shoulders wider. He staggered forward, losing his grip on her.
‘Will.’ Amanda recognised the man holding her as her husband, felt her heart start to quicken with hopeful beats. Will Thorn was the strongest man she knew. If anyone could haul her up from the cliff edge it was him.
But Will was struggling. Amanda dropped further down the cliffside, heard the roaring beneath her grow louder. She clawed at Will’s outstretched arm, dug her nails in, but she could feel herself slipping. ‘Will!’ She was screaming, looking up at him through the tears which had started to fall.
A shot cracked between them like a clap of thunder. Will let go. As Amanda started to fall she briefly glimpsed him tumbling to the ground, pressing his hands to his chest to try and stop the blood which was suddenly seeping out of him. The wind whipped past her as she kept falling. Any second she’d hit the rocks and—
Snapping open her eyes, Amanda sat up. She was breathing hard, sucking in air like she’d been deprived of it while she slept. Hugging her knees to her chest, she waited for the moment to pass, for the world to right itself.
‘Amanda?’ her mother stirred beside her. Corrine was hauling herself into an upright position, a hand cautiously checking the curlers beneath her hairnet as she did so. ‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’
‘I was having a nightmare.’ Amanda’s throat felt too dry. Too raw.
‘Well, it’s passed now. You should try and get back to sleep. You need your rest.’
Amanda looked towards the curtains on the far side of the room which swayed gently in a lazy waltz against a faint breeze which trickled in through the partially open window. The breeze carried in the rumble of the waves, the taste of salt, reminding Amanda that her nightmare would never truly pass, that it continued to exist all around her.
‘I need to get up.’ She swung her legs out of the bed and stood up before her mother could reach out and stop her.
‘You really do need to sleep,’ Corrine stated firmly.
‘Whenever I close my eyes I see him.’ Amanda was pulling a hoody on over her nightshirt.
‘And when your eyes are open?’
Untucking her hair from her hoody, Amanda sighed. It was a deep sound which came up from the bottom of her soul. ‘When my eyes are open, I feel him. It’s like he’s everywhere.’
‘Because he is,’ Corrine was rolling back onto her side, pulling the bed sheets up to her chin. ‘When you love someone they never truly leave you.’
Amanda thought of Will. Of her father. Knowing that she’d never see either of them again made her ribs clench around her heart as though someone or something was applying pressure upon them, squeezing until they reached the point where the bone might snap.
*
Dawn was still far enough away that the stars were able to hold dominion over the sky. Amanda peered up at them from the little kitchen window as she waited for the kettle to boil. She needed coffee. Whilst her mind was willing to forsake further rest, her body was not. Her bones ached and her eyelids felt heavy.
‘Couldn’t sleep?’
Turning around, Amanda saw Shane slumped against the door frame, his hair ruffled from sleeping on the sofa.
‘No.’ The kettle whistled as it reached boiling point. ‘You?’
‘I’ve slept in more comfortable places.’ Drifting into the kitchen, Shane pressed a hand against a knot in his back.
‘Want one?’ Amanda gestured towards her mug.
‘Sure.’
‘You know you don’t have to stay here, right? You could find a place of your own, get on with your life. You need somewhere to stay after you were, you know, kicked out of your last place.’
‘Don’t you want me around anymore?’ Shane stared at her, dejected. ‘When you came to me wanting help back when Will first disappeared you opened up a door between us that had been closed for too long. Don’t you want to keep that door open?’
‘Yes. Of course. It’s not that,’ Amanda swiftly assured him as she passed him a fresh mug of coffee. ‘It’s just…’ She sat down across from him at the kitchen table. The rough wooden surface was uneven in places and flecks of paint had come away, revealing the natural grain of the wood beneath. But the table fit the cottage. Shabby chic, that was the style people called it.
‘Amanda,’ Shane slid his hand across the table and found hers. He was so warm to the touch, like there was fire in his veins. ‘I’m not going to leave you to deal with all this shit alone. You lost your husband and—’
‘Do you think they’re looking for us?’ she interrupted, her eyes suddenly wide and wild.
‘You mean—’
‘McAllister’s men,’ Amanda finished for him. ‘Do you think they know that we took Ewan? That we’re here?’
‘I don’t…’ Shane pulled his free hand through his untidy hair. ‘No,’ he concluded, his voice lacking conviction. ‘Absolutely not. The trail would have gone cold up in Scotland, you saw to that with your dark
net stuff.’ He released her hand.
Amanda trusted the information she procured on the darknet. It was the ambiguous space on the Internet where there was no law – no reason. No ability to trace a user’s movements. But as much as she trusted the darknet she couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling in her gut.
‘But still. McAllister spent years hunting for Will,’ she gazed sadly into her coffee, ‘for Jake.’ It was still so hard to reconcile her husband as being two men. She’d known Will Thorn, the sexy stranger who had been a gentleman to his core. That was the man she’d met and fallen in love with. The man she’d married. Then she learnt that Will Thorn was actually Jake Burton. And Jake Burton was a criminal, a dealer of drugs. A man on the run. Only Jake failed to outrun his past and it cost him dearly. And his first wife, Evangeline.
His real wife.
Amanda didn’t like how she was starting to question everything about her relationship with Will. She found herself picking apart every moment, searching for clues she might have missed, for truths she might have ignored through blissful ignorance. Even when he uttered his vows to her he was repeating himself. Amanda felt like every truth she’d ever clung to was unravelling around her and scattering to the wind leaving her naked, alone. And scared.
‘They’re not coming for us,’ Shane made a promise he couldn’t keep.
‘If he hadn’t met me…’ Amanda went to bat away a tear but none had fallen. For the time being she was all cried out. ‘If it weren’t for me, he might have kept running. Kept hiding. He might still be alive.’
‘You can’t think like that.’
‘He’s dead.’ Her words bounced off the walls around them. ‘And I had to watch him die, there in the woods, and then leave him so that I could…could keep Ewan safe.’
Shane got up, intending to come and comfort her, but Amanda was too fast. She hurried out of the kitchen, through the back door into the rose garden. Shane followed, his bare feet crunching against the little gravel footpath.
‘I can’t accept that he’s gone,’ Amanda admitted, keeping her back to Shane as her long hair billowed away from her in the wind like a scarf of sunlight-infused silk. She could see the sky finally starting to lighten in the distance, the stars beginning to lose their shine.
‘But he is.’ Shane’s voice was soft as he placed both hands on her shoulders and together they looked out to sea. ‘He’s gone and there’s nothing you can do about it. But you can do something about Ewan. You can keep him safe. You can give him a home. A life.’
‘I’m not…’ Turning, Amanda buried her face against Shane’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sleep curdled with cologne. ‘I’m not a mother.’ She almost choked on the words. Shane’s warm hands found her back and held her in a tight embrace.
‘You’re all that boy has left in the world.’
‘I know.’ Amanda’s voice was muffled. ‘And that’s why I can’t let him down. Why I have to keep him safe.’
‘He is safe.’
‘Yes, but for how long?’
*
It felt good to go jogging. It was familiar. Safe. As Amanda powered down the beach, kicking up sand with each step, she felt like she could almost pretend that she’d travelled back to a month ago, back when life was normal. Back when she thought she knew who her husband was.
Despite the early hour there were a few people scattered along the beach. Others out running, some with their dogs – throwing sticks into the waves for their four-legged companions to eagerly chase after. There was a weak sun in the sky. It seemed watery as it tried to shine out through the thin layer of cloud. It gave the new day a subdued feeling.
Amanda kept running. She felt an ache in her legs, in her muscles, and pushed herself to go faster. She’d always loved running. So had Will. Some mornings when he wasn’t on an early shift he’d pull on his running shoes and join her as she paced through the woods. Amanda always knew that Will could easily outrun her. His legs were thick and powerful, perfect for acceleration. But he never raced off. He always jogged loyally by her side, throwing her occasional smiles as they moved beneath the leafy canopy created by the surrounding trees.
Her chest squeezed a bit too tightly and Amanda staggered to a halt. Placing her hands on her knees, she dropped her head and took deep, refreshing breaths. The air was damp; the blades of grass in her mother’s garden would still be laced with dew. Slowly Amanda straightened and reassessed the beach around her.
There was a guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties walking in her direction with a black Labrador beside him who had a large stick held between his teeth. The dog’s tail was wagging back and forth as it kept pace with its master. But Amanda was more interested in the beach dweller on two legs. Crouching down, she pretended to tie her shoelace so that she could subtly watch the man out of the corner of her eye. He wore baggy shorts and his head was shaved, but not close enough to hide that his hair was naturally black. He had a plain blue T-shirt loosely tucked into his shorts and his feet were bare, meaning that he must live close by.
‘Come on, give,’ he instructed his dog as he reached for the twig the animal was eagerly carrying. ‘Wait now. Sit.’
The dog instantly sat, staring adoringly at the stick in his master’s hand as his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as he panted.
Amanda continued to fidget with her laces, straining to hear even a hint of a Scottish accent in the man’s voice.
‘Okay now, fetch!’ The man slung the stick into the waves and his dog bolted after it. He was now less than a few feet from Amanda.
‘Morning.’ He gave her a polite nod and a one-word greeting as he passed her by. Amanda stood up as the black Lab bounded out of the water, triumphantly brandishing the retrieved stick between its jaws. ‘Good boy,’ the man enthused, bending down to fuss his freshly wet dog.
Amanda turned away from them and continued jogging.
It could just be a front, she considered.
McAllister’s men might be watching her in plain sight, scrutinising her every move as they decided when would be the best time to pounce. The man had held onto his grudge with Will for years. A drugs run gone sour and the price to pay had been Will’s life. Jake Burton’s life. And even Evangeline’s, Jake’s wife. Amanda didn’t understand that kind of vengeance, she just knew to fear it. McAllister’s men would surely be out there, searching. Perhaps they’d descend upon her mother’s home in the dead of night, come crashing through the windows, and in the ensuing chaos steal Ewan straight out of his bed while he slept. Or maybe they’d just kill him there and then. A brutal single bullet. That was all it had taken to end Will.
Amanda stopped jogging. This time it wasn’t because she’d grown tired. She sucked in air as she staggered away from the shoreline, feeling winded.
Will was gone.
The words were on a carousel in her mind so that she had to keep dealing with them over and over again.
Her man mountain. Her oak tree. The man whose name she had taken. He still existed in her memories. Will Thorn was still there but of course he wasn’t. Not really. He was gone. Amanda kicked at the sand in frustration.
‘Bring him back,’ she demanded of the universe. But she knew it wouldn’t happen. She’d made a similar plea for years as a girl after her father died and it was never answered.
*
‘Toy Story? Again?’ Corrine turned the DVD case over in her hands and frowned at the cheerful cover.
‘Again, again,’ Ewan was dancing in circles around the old woman, clutching his beloved Woody to his chest.
‘He’s watched it twice already today,’ Corrine glanced over at Amanda who was slicing sandwiches for tea. Cheese and jam. The filling had been Ewan’s choice.
‘It’s his favourite,’ Amanda shrugged.
‘But three times in one day?’ Corrine sounded baffled. ‘I mean, I love me some Robert De Niro, but even I couldn’t look at that man’s handsome face so repeatedly in one day.’
‘He enj
oys it.’ Amanda plucked the DVD from her mother’s grasp and headed into the living room with Ewan quickly at her heels.
‘You’ll sit and watch it with me this time, won’t you?’ he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Amanda knew she must seem distracted. She’d spent the morning sorting out her old room – turning it into a space more appropriate for a little boy. She’d put up the new curtains, emptied her books from the shelves and filled them with the toys they’d picked up for Ewan. It had been a bittersweet process. For so long her old bedroom had acted like a time capsule, a place she could escape to when her current life got too much. A place where she could pretend her father still existed. But as she’d taken down the final poster, she’d realised that she’d removed every trace of herself from the room. It was like she’d never been there at all.
‘Well, I never thought I’d see the day,’ Corrine had noted as she peered in from the landing.
‘It had to be done,’ Amanda rolled the last poster up. ‘This is Ewan’s room now.’
‘So you have no intention of going back to that beautiful house of yours?’
‘Not right now.’
‘Because of all the memories of Will?’
‘Yeah.’ Amanda had nodded.
That and the fact that her home wasn’t safe. It was there amongst her pristine walls and polished surfaces that she’d received the ominous call asking for Jake Burton. That call had been the first domino which had succeeded in toppling all the others. Even in her perfect home, she couldn’t keep out the past. And if McAllister’s men had known about the house back then, they still knew about it now. They might go there searching for Ewan and Amanda wasn’t about to let them find the little boy. It would be easy enough for them to find the cottage with the rose garden beside the sea – even her mother’s home wasn’t completely safe. But they’d never been there, had never called. And Amanda was grasping at straws, taking what little consolation she could to try and silence the endless echoes of fearful doubt in her mind.
