by Agatha Frost
“Stop saying that, you idiot.” She slapped his arm harder than she intended. “How many of those things you mentioned only changed in the last year? Just when you think everything’s fixed, it all gets shaken up like a snow globe. That’s life. C’mon, mate. You’ve lived long enough to know every phase is temporary. This one’s just lasted longer. You’re not a loser, you’re just stuck.” She hooked her finger under his chin and lifted his face up. “Em told me earlier that life is short, and she’s right. If you want something to change, you have to be the one to change it.”
“But what if I don’t know what I want?”
“Then start with what you need.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “What’s the thing that would change your life the most?”
“I need to leave the factory,” he said without missing a beat. “It was just about tolerable with you there, but now? It’s crushing my spirit. I know I should be grateful to have a job and keep a roof over my head, but I want more. I don’t want to be a cog in a machine for the rest of my life. I’m tired, Claire.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. Why do you think I spent so many years dreaming about opening a candle shop? That factory’s a job of necessity and everyone knows it. Aside from the long-timers like you and me, most people pass through like it’s a revolving door because that’s how it’s supposed to be. We both got stuck, but it doesn’t mean you can’t get out. You just need a shove.”
“What do I do instead?”
“Follow your dream.”
“What if I don’t have one?”
“Everyone has a dream, Damon.” She sat up straight and patted his knee. “Just because you haven’t figured it out yet doesn’t mean you don’t have one. You just have to think a little harder about it – and be honest with yourself. It’s easy to stay stuck. When you figure it out, you’ll look back at this conversation and know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Before Damon could protest any further, Sean finally showed up at the end of the corridor. He went straight into the room, pulled something from his pocket, and handed it to Taron. Sitting up, Taron motioned through the window for Damon and Claire to join them.
“This wasn’t how I wanted to do things,” he said as he ripped open the small plastic packet Sean had handed him. “I have the real one in my bag, but I don’t know how long I’ll be in here, and I can’t wait.” He pulled out a plastic ring with a gem-shaped lolly on top. “We’ve kept things secret for too long and now we don’t need to. I want the world to know how much I love you.” He held the ring up to Rina. “I love you, Rina. You brought sunshine back to my life after years of clouds, and I don’t want to go a day in my life without you. I want you to be my wife. I want us to get married.” He paused for breath, and with a shaky smile, asked, “Will you marry me?”
The sudden shock of the question gave way to an uncomfortable silence that dragged out the longer Rina didn’t respond. Taron looked around the room before fixing his gaze on Rina. She ducked her head, not making eye contact.
“Rina?”
He reached out to grab for her hand, but she yanked it back and took a clumsy step into one of the beeping machines. She spun around and rushed out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.
“Timing, dude,” Damon said, breaking the silence. “Mark has just died.”
“I almost died,” Taron shot back, his voice giving way to a fit of coughing.
Claire left the room and turned in the direction Rina had run, hoping to find her before she vanished into the night. After guessing her way down the most obvious route, Claire came to a wide-open fire exit door that let in the chilly night air and the sound of traffic. Claire popped her head through the gap and found Rina leaning against the wall, gasping for air as she fought back tears.
“Breathe,” Claire said as she rubbed Rina’s back, sure she was having a panic attack. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
“Get off of me!” Rina pushed Claire and stumbled away, falling to her hands and knees on the grass.
Despite her protests, Claire joined her in the grass and continued to rub her back. Though Claire didn’t trust the woman after her many fibs, Rina didn’t deserve to be alone in such clear distress. She rubbed in large circles until Rina’s choked attempts at breathing calmed enough to allow shaky streams of air to leave her mouth. Rocking back onto her bottom, Rina rubbed at her tears.
“I think you’re in shock,” Claire whispered, sitting next to Rina in the grass as the traffic blurred by on the road below. “And considering what you’ve been through today, nobody can blame you.”
“Taron knows I don’t want to get married,” she managed to say as she wiped away more tears. “I came here to do things differently. My parents, they are very traditional. They saw my life unfolding like theirs. All they wanted was for me to find a husband who could provide while I stayed at home to raise children. So many of my generation are rejecting this way, but my parents would not allow it. I brought shame on them for daring to live my life in a way that suited me. They kept introducing me to men, pushing the idea that theirs was the only way, so I left.” She inhaled deeply through her nose and stared up at the night sky. “I came to the UK to study because I wanted to forge my own path, but somehow, I ended up on the exact path they wanted for me.” Her breath hitched. “Taron knows all this. He knows how I feel about marriage. My parents, they live a lie. My father works such long hours he rarely has time for his family, and my mother lives a miserable life at home. Things have been changing in my country for decades, but many still cling to the old traditions. W-why would Taron ask this of me?”
“Marriage isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay,” Claire said, thinking of Sally’s recent woes. “It can work. My parents have been married for decades and they’re still happy. But I get it. My mum also thinks marriage is the be all and end all, and I’ve never really been that bothered.”
“And they still support you?”
“I recently lived with them again for a little while,” Claire said, nodding. “She never stops going on about it, but I think she’s only half serious. She’d never force me to do something I didn’t want to do, but heavily suggesting it is still fair game.”
“My parents have disowned me,” Rina said bluntly. “They will not answer my calls. They don’t see the modern Japan growing before their eyes, they only see what has been. They don’t see their misery like I do.” She paused, plucking at the blades of grass by her feet. “I was accepted into university in Glasgow on a scholarship to learn game design. Back home, video games were always my escape. I got to see the world through them. I thought the UK was all royal families and tea.” She let out a small laugh. “Now I realise there’s so much more, but at first, it was a shock. I was lonely. Playing Dawn Ship 2, I met Mark online, and he introduced me to his friends. We liked the same games, and it made us close. Mark always wanted more. I tried to be his girlfriend, to see how dating was here, but I couldn’t do it. I felt controlled, owned. I needed to be free. I kept giving him chances, but it ended up the same way every time.”
“And Taron?”
“I never thought he liked me.” She smiled, biting into her bottom lip. “We never really talked, but then we were waiting in a chat room for other players to join, and we started. We talked for hours. He was so different from the other British men I’d talked to. He was so calm and intelligent. He made me think, made me challenge my ideas. It made me look at Mark differently. I saw him for the childish man he was. I think I fell in love with Taron quickly, but . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she clenched her eyes. “He knew I didn’t want to get married. I never kept it a secret.”
“But you kept your relationship with him secret?”
“Because of Mark,” she replied quickly. “If he’d known, he’d have ruined things. He was always trying to win me back, but I only wanted to be friends. I told him this, many times, and he said he understood. The more I fell in love with Taron, the freer I fel
t to be myself and do things the way I wanted.”
Softly, Claire asked, “And the convention?”
“We were all supposed to be going together. We’d planned it for months. Then Taron had an argument with Mark, and the whole thing fell apart. Mark begged me to be on his team for the tournament. I didn’t think it was fair that Mark and Daniel wouldn’t be able to enter, so I agreed to be their third. In my mind, I had decided it was the last time I would do Mark any favours. He made me feel like I owed him. I planned on cutting communication with him so I could focus on my studies and my relationship with Taron, and now he – he’s . . .”
The fire door squeaked open behind them, and Damon crept out.
“I think Taron’s feeling a bit embarrassed,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s best that we all go home. We’ll come back tomorrow when he’s had a chance to rest properly.”
Agreeing that it was a good idea, Claire stood and helped Rina up off the grass. Damon went back inside, but Rina lingered, and to Claire’s surprise, gave her a hug.
“Thank you for showing me kindness tonight,” she said as she squeezed Claire tightly. “Now and earlier.”
Claire appreciated the thanks, although she hadn’t expected it. When they pulled away from the hug, she thought back to their meeting at the park and what Rina had said.
“You said Mark sounded worried when he called and asked to meet you,” Claire said, holding open the fire door but remaining outside. “Do you know what time that was?”
“Around half past nine,” Rina replied. “I was with him when he was streaming at the B&B and he got a message from someone wanting to meet him. He wouldn’t say who it was and he told me to stay behind. I don’t know why he was in the park, but when he called, he was whispering, like he was hiding. I went straight there, but I couldn’t find him. I waited for a while. I was starting to think he was playing a prank on me for a video. I was about to leave when I saw you.”
Claire nodded. “It was about ten o’clock by then, I think.” She paused. “Rina, was Daniel at the B&B?”
Her silver hair glinted as she shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since the pub.”
Claire checked the time as they walked inside and was surprised to see it was almost two in the morning. The day had been such a long one. There were still so many questions to ask, but they would have to wait for tomorrow. Leaving Taron in his room, the four of them headed back to Janet’s car. With Rina walking up front and Sean trailing behind, Claire linked arms with Damon.
“Sean was with you tonight, wasn’t he?” Claire whispered as they squeezed between two rows of cars.
“Yeah,” Damon replied quickly. “He was in my sights all night. Well, except for when I had a soak in the bath.”
“And what time was that?”
“About quarter past nine,” he said.
“Short bath?”
“I fell asleep watching an episode of Doctor Who on my laptop,” he admitted, “but I woke up just as it was finishing. It was ‘Blink’, a Russell T Davies-era episode, although it was written by Moffat, who became the next showrunner. Cracking episode, and really clever because—”
“The point, Damon?”
“Right, sorry. Those episodes are around forty-five minutes long, so it wasn’t exactly a quick bath. He was on the sofa eating ice cream when I got out.” His brow wrinkled, and he added, “Which is weird now that I think about it because we ate the last of my ice cream the night before the convention.”
Glancing back at Sean, Claire wished Damon had been able to give his friend an airtight alibi. She’d asked as a formality, trying to rule him out once and for all, but her father’s words reminded her to look at the evidence – and the evidence suggested that neither Sean nor Daniel’s whereabouts could be accounted for at the time of Mark’s murder.
Back at her mother’s car, she knocked on the window and startled Janet from an upright sleep behind the wheel. Claire intended to head to the B&B to question Daniel straight away, regardless of the time, but she nodded off in the front seat before they were even on the motorway.
Chapter Eleven
Sitting on the floor of her shop as she restocked the bottom row of black cherry candles, Claire let out an almighty yawn. One of the few things she missed about working at the factory was how much easier it had been to hide being tired or even hungover. On display in her shop, Claire had to plaster on a smile every time a customer walked through the door – not that her lack of sleep went unnoticed.
“You look awfully tired!” announced Eugene, the theatrical husband of Marley, owner of the café, when he came in a little after opening. “Preparation H isn’t just for haemorrhoids, you know. Works fabulously as an under-eye de-puffer. Better to start at your age before those creases set in.”
Another of the things she missed from the factory was, thankfully, keeping company with her in the shop today. She hadn’t asked Damon to help; he’d simply turned up and got to work the second Claire unlocked the front door that morning. He hid his tiredness better than she did and not having to go through the workday alone was a comfort.
“I’ve put all the labels on the latest batch of vanilla candles,” he said as he emerged from the back with a box in his arms. “Organised all the fragrance oils too. They were all over the place.”
“Almost feels silly to be working today,” she said as Damon replaced her now-empty box of black cherry candles with a fresh one to complete the row. “Mark has only died and Taron has just woken up.”
“I talked to Sean about what he did while I was in the bath,” Damon said after taking the empty box into the back. “He said he went to the twenty-four-hour shop up on Park Lane to get ice cream, putting him in the exact area at the time Mark must have been stabbed. And before you ask, I didn’t ask if he did it. By the time we got back, it was late. The last thing I wanted was him running off again. He was still asleep on the sofa when I left this morning, although I felt like he was pretending. He was too quiet.”
“Do you think he could have done it?”
“After the last few days,” he said with a tight smile, “I’ve stopped assuming I know any of them. They’ve all acted in ways I don’t recognise. Just knowing that one of them is lying about something makes me feel icky. Stabbing one person is bad enough, but to stab another a few days later? And from how you described it, they attacked Mark like he was a pincushion.” Damon pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it around to show Claire. “Look at his views. They’ve skyrocketed as word has spread online.”
“Just what he wanted.”
“It’s almost like he planned it this way.” Damon put away his phone with a sombre smile. “Shame he’s not here to see the results. What if there’s another stabbing tomorrow? Or the day after? What if it’s me?”
“Why would it be you?”
“Why would it be Taron or Mark?” Damon shrugged, leaning against the counter. “And what if it’s not me, but one of the other three? I called the hospital this morning to check on Taron, and the doctor mentioned that the police had been outside his room since dawn. I know it’s good they no longer think it was a random attack, but Dr Mohindra made it sound like they were keeping guard, like they think someone could go back to finish the job.”
The thought hadn’t crossed Claire’s mind.
“They’ve had days to do it if they were going to,” she said after thinking about it for a minute. “Although perhaps they were waiting for him to wake up? To see what he knew?”
“Which is apparently sweet nothing.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t not believe him,” she said, pushing herself up off the floor. “But this morning in the shower, I was pondering the reasons he’d fake amnesia, and I thought of two. He could be scared, but what if—”
“What if he’s protecting someone?”
“Exactly.”
“What if this whole thing is a bad case of mistaken identity?�
� Damon suggested, scratching at the scruff on the lower half of his round face. “Maybe whoever stabbed Taron in that alley thought they were getting Mark, and Mark was the intended victim all along? I know he’s dead, but he’s always been the most intolerable of the group.”
“With that height difference?”
“Good point. The only thing Mark could have been mistaken for was a lamppost.” Damon paused to think. “Taron proposing out of nowhere last night. What do you think that was about?”
“What if it didn’t come out of nowhere?” Claire crossed to the window and looked beyond the clock tower towards the gym across the square. “Like he said, he had a ring in his bag. Maybe it was always his plan to propose while he was here?”
“Even I know Rina doesn’t want to get married,” Damon said. “She’s talked tons about her parents.”
“Maybe he thought his near-death experience might have changed her mind?”
“That, or they’re giving him really good painkillers.”
“At least he put himself out there, even knowing she might say no.” Claire chewed the inside of her lip before turning from the window and asking, “Would you be able to watch the shop for five minutes?”
“Sure,” he replied, stepping behind the counter. “You off to talk to Daniel?”
“Make it fifteen minutes, then. There’s something else I need to do, and I can’t put it off any longer.”
Claire left the shop, first heading to the corner outside the post office. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she peered up towards the grand front entrance of Starfall Park, next to The Park Inn. She’d overheard a group of disgruntled women talking about how the entire park was sealed off, and the police were crawling all over the place. They didn’t seem to know why, which told Claire they weren’t from the village and had likely only come for the grand park. They’d left the shop without buying anything, even though they’d spent twenty minutes opening and sniffing nearly every candle Claire had on offer while loudly gossiping like she wasn’t there. Turning away from the park, Claire hoped the police found something to put an end to the fiasco.
