by Linda Huber
‘Doctor Mason – how is Kelly really?’
He leaned forward. ‘I’ve seen the x-ray. She has pneumonia, caused by her long incarceration and poor nutrition, and that’s what’s causing the heart fibrillation. The medication will soon have it under control, but she’s still very weak.’
‘Is she injured? Has she been…’ Nicola couldn’t bring the word over her lips.
‘At the moment there’s no reason to think she was sexually assaulted. According to the other little girl, your husband never entered the room while she was there.’
It wasn’t much, but it was something. He left her with the promise of more information as soon as it was available, and Nicola went back to Kelly. A nurse was checking the drips.
‘What can I do to help her?’
‘Hearing’s one of the first things to come back, so it’s always a good idea to talk to unconscious people, or play them music. You could bring some things from home – music, a soft toy to put next to her, if she has one? Or your perfume – the familiar smell will reassure her if she wakes up any time you’re not there. And you should make some calls, Nicola – is there anyone who could help you?’
The nurse patted her shoulder and left, and Nicola slumped in her chair. They were all so kind, but every single person here looked at her with horror in their eyes. She pulled out her phone. Only one person – other than Ed – could tell her anything useful.
Fifteen minutes later Nicola ended the call to Melanie, shaken to the core. Those details of a pitiful childhood after Ed’s father was released from prison, for God’s sake – and she’d known none of it. She hadn’t known Ed, either, had she? But you didn’t expect people to have pasts like that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Man
He couldn’t think where else to come to. It had taken him the best part of three hours to double back to the coast after leaving the car, then he’d waited until no one was about before going down to the next cove and swimming round the headland to get to this beach. His beach. His eight-year-old self running along the sands flashed in front of his eyes.
Ed stared out over the ocean, dark blue in the fading light and permanently in motion, as it always was. The beach was deserted, and that must be because the coastal path was blocked off as well as Coast Road, cutting off access to this beach. Here was his rock, the flat one at the mouth of his cave, his refuge as a boy. He sat on the rock, well under the cliff so no one would see him from the top, and buried his head in both hands. He should never have come back to St Ives.
After a while he raised his head. This was his last sunset over the ocean; he should watch it. The sky turned red before his eyes and the sea darkened as the orange ball dipped below the horizon and was gone. Goodbye, sun, goodbye, beach. He’d been happy down here, in another life. What would they do with his shell collection, in a box in the attic?
It was decision time. He could stay here, go into the cave and wait for the tide to come in. Wait for death. But that would take too long, and if they opened the Coastal Path again he’d be joined by holidaymakers and kids wanting to try the surf. His beach would no longer be his own.
He could go and meet death. Walk into the sea and keep going, cold water creeping up his body and over his head. But some nosy policeman could have binoculars trained on the ocean, on the lookout. If they saw him drown, they’d come and fish his body out and that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to vanish as completely as Dad had.
And he could do that, because there was a better way. Success was virtually guaranteed. The tide would be right in an hour or so.
He left his rock, walking under the cliff until he came to the path back up to Coast Road, and started the climb. He was heading much further up than the top of the cliff, of course; he was going to the better place. Or maybe he was going to hell.
No one was about at the top of the cliff. If the police were watching, they weren’t showing themselves. He waited, motionless, but apparently no one cared that he’d climbed back into the world. Now he’d have to wait again, for the tide. He found a good spot in a clump of bushes and sat still, hugging his legs. There was the ocean, ever-changing and yet timeless, moonlight glinting on the waves as they surged inland. In, and in. And wait. He shivered. The bush was no shelter from tonight’s brisk sea breeze, but there it was, the crash of breakers on the cliff. A few more minutes; the water below had to be deep enough to pull him out to sea for all eternity.
The wind was getting stronger, the crashes below the cliff louder. Peak tide. It was time.
Ed fought his way out of the bush, his stomach churning with nerves and exhilaration. He was going to fly. Find a good spot, Eddie, back up a bit, away from the cliff edge. Get a run at it. Run, run away from the pain.
He stood for a moment, the wind in his hair, arms spread to the side – then he ran.
Goodbye, world.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday, 15th August
Nicola stood up, stiff after a night spent on a hospital chair, and went over to Kelly’s bedside. Beep beep beep beep. Her heart rate was steadier today. Why, why, why had Ed hidden his past from her? She could have helped him… Nicola walked across the room; she didn’t have the inner peace to sit still. The window overlooked a car park, sparsely populated; it was too early for visitors. She should concentrate on what little she could do for her daughter. Fetching some stuff from the house was a good idea – familiar music and stuff. Deb would help with that. Nicola took her phone out to the corridor.
Deb promised to start out immediately, and Nicola reeled off a list of what to bring. Most of it was in a box in the hallway so it wouldn’t be hard to find, and the police would let Deb in.
‘Oh, and bring her Shaun the Sheep cushion, would you? It’s on the sofa.’
Nicola ended the call and went back to Kelly’s bedside. She kissed her girl, stroking Kelly’s filthy hair and murmuring in her ear – nothing like the photo of the poor dead girl’s ear in London, and how long ago that was. Eventually she sat back, holding Kelly’s hand. Deb would be at the house soon, loading Kelly’s things into her car. Nicola pictured Kelly’s boxes in the hallway, and Shaun the Sheep on the sofa. It was all so clear in her head, and would she ever go back there, to the room Ed had created for their family? He’d been papering over the cracks in his life, transforming the rooms and replacing rattling single-glazing with big new windows overlooking the garden with the apple tree she hadn’t known he’d planted…. an old apple tree now, swaying in the breeze from the ocean.
Nicola pressed the hand that wasn’t holding Kelly’s to her mouth as Stu Linton’s voice came into her head. He was planting an apple tree for Amelia coming home… Told me his dad was never coming back.
Nicola stared dumbly into space, thoughts racing through her head. He was happy enough, that day. Ed the teenager was happy… he knew his father wasn’t coming back… because… because he was… Nicola lurched in her chair as horror struck home. He was planting an apple tree… Her stomach cramped.
‘Mrs Seaton? Can we have a quick word?’
Two police officers were in the doorway, both strangers, and Nicola rose without speaking and followed them into the deserted corridor, where they sat on a row of chairs along one wall. The men introduced themselves as detectives something-or-other, and it was as if they were wearing masks. Such kindly-neutral, saying-nothing expressions. Nicola shivered.
The older man spoke. ‘We have to tell you that a body was recovered from the sea half an hour ago and it would appear to be your husband’s. I’m sorry.’
Numbness spread through Nicola. It was over.
‘I don’t want to identify him.’
‘We can do it with DNA. It’s a formality, he had his driving licence in his pocket. How’s Kelly?’
‘She’s more stable.’ Nicola answered automatically, her mind racing. What was she supposed to do – would it matter if she remained silent about the apple tree? Amelia was gone, and now Ed was dead too… wh
at good would a big revelation do? The press would have a field day and Kelly would be the one to suffer most.
The two men rose to go. ‘We’ll be in touch. Look after your girl, that’s the important thing.’
They moved away, and Nicola’s thoughts raced. If she ignored this now, how could she look Kelly in the face again? Two wrongs didn’t make a right.
‘Wait!’ she said, her fingers tearing at the tissue in her hands. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
The officers turned back, but a sudden alarm sounded from Kelly’s room and Nicola’s hands flew to her face as doctors and nurses dashed into the room.
Kelly…
A stupid noisy beep in the background had been bugging her for ages, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Cold fear was whirling around Kelly – she was going to be sick pretty soon; her stomach was churning away, but a ton of bricks was pressing down on her. What was going on – where was she, and oh, no – where was Mia? Kelly struggled against whatever was holding her down and the beeping noise moved sharply until it was right beside her.
For half a second Kelly smelled Mum’s perfume, but darkness was waiting, swooping down over her, and oh, how still it was in the darkness, how peaceful. Relax, Kel, let the dark take over, and nothing will ever bother you again. It would be so easy…
A voice. ‘She’s down again.’
Kelly ignored it, sinking swiftly into ever-deeper black.
Another voice. ‘Kelly, darling, I’m here, I’ve got you.’
Mum. Mum, she would go to Mum… The darkness receded. Kelly tried to open her eyes, but it was way too light here. This was a hospital; she could smell it. And Mum was holding her hand.
Epilogue
One year later
Nicola gripped Kelly’s arm as they walked down the cemetery pathway. Here was the oak tree – it would still be the same for years to come. Some things didn’t change. Leafy shade dappled across the path as they hesitated by the row of graves.
‘You know we don’t have to do this, Kel?’ Coming here had been Kelly’s idea, and Nicola wasn’t sure if it was a good one or not.
Determination and uncertainty were chasing each other across the girl’s face. ‘I want to. Once we’ve seen it, we don’t have to come back.’
Nicola led the way along the row of graves, then stood in front of Amelia’s. The headstone was up now; she’d had it erected yesterday, but she had chosen not to be here. Kelly was right, this would be the only visit. Nicola stooped and laid the roses she’d brought on the gravel, then stared at the stone.
Three names were there: Amelia’s, with the years of her birth and death, David, her husband’s, and – Ed’s. The ashes of the two men had been put here, also in Nicola’s absence.
Kelly shivered. ‘Do you think Gran would mind them being here too?’
Nicola put an arm around her girl. ‘No. They’re her family. Kel – we need to remember the Ed we knew in London, and loved all those years. That was the real Ed, how he wanted to be. The rest was the… poison in his life.’
It wasn’t quite that simple, but the important thing was Kelly was recovering, in their new London flat, and doing well with one more year of school to go. What happened after that was part of the big unknown. But it was a start.
‘Come on.’ Nicola grabbed Kelly’s hand and pulled. ‘We’ve seen it. Let’s get going – it’s a long drive.’ After two days in St Ives with Deb, it was time to go home.
The car was parked outside the church. Kelly’s phone rang as they were belting up, and she pulled it from her bag.
‘It’s Mia.’
The bond between the girls was as strong as ever, and hopefully always would be. Nicola drove towards the main road, listening to Kelly’s side of the conversation.
‘Next weekend? I’ll be there. Fab.’
Nicola smiled to herself. Visits to and from the Gillans in Brighton had turned into a regular thing. Mia’s excited squeak filled the car, and Kelly held the phone away from her head.
‘Mind my ears, kiddo … Marshmallow sundae sounds fab ... No, we’ve just set out. We were checking my gran’s new headstone … It’s fine … Hey, I decided yesterday to try for uni in Brighton and London.’
Another excited squeak through the phone. A lorry pulled out in front of them, and Nicola slowed down, glancing across at Kelly. Contentment was spreading over the girl’s face, and Nicola blinked back tears. Kelly’s plan was news to her too. But maybe the future wasn’t such a big unknown after all.
The End
Acknowledgements
Very special thanks yet again to my editor Debi Alper. Her help and encouragement with this book were, as always, invaluable. Thanks also to the entire team at Fabrian Books, and to Debbie Bright of The Cover Collection for the amazing cover artwork.
Love and thanks to my sons Matthias and Pascal Huber for technical help and information, and to Pascal for his work on my website. Thanks, guys – couldn’t manage without you!
Special thanks go to my cousin Fiona Ewers, for guiding me through the intricacies of the English school system, and to Caryl Crabb for medical information. Any mistakes made here are mine.
More thanks to Sarah Hardy for organising the blog tour, and to all the bloggers and reviewers for their help and support. More people I couldn’t manage without.
And to the many, many others who have helped and supported me in so many ways, both in real life and on social media – thank you SO much!
About the Author
Linda Huber grew up in Glasgow, Scotland, where she trained as a physiotherapist. She spent ten years working with neurological patients, firstly in Glasgow and then in Switzerland. During this time she learned that different people have different ways of dealing with stress in their lives, and this knowledge still helps her today, in her writing.
Linda now lives in Arbon, Switzerland, where she works as a language teacher on the banks of beautiful Lake Constance. The Runaway is her ninth novel.
Visit Linda at http://lindahuber.net/
Follow her on Twitter @LindaHuber19
If you enjoyed The Runaway, you may like these other Fabrian Books chillers:
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Skeptical NYPD Homicide Detective Maria Miller only believes in cold hard facts. But a gruesome murder at a Greenwich Village brownstone seems to point straight to a paranormal source. Determined to unearth a rational explanation, she vows to find the culprit before he strikes again…
But Maria is about to learn that this atrocious crime is far from unique. An identical slaughter rocked the same house decades ago, and Miller must determine if it’s the same culprit, a copycat, or something much darker…
When Miller becomes the killer’s next target, will her stubborn cynicism save her or send her to the other side?
The Haunting On West 10th Street is the first book in the chilling Ghosts of New York horror series. If you like terrifying tales, supernatural crime stories, and eerie mysteries that span decades, then you’ll love Helen Phifer’s nail-biting novel.
The Cold Cold Sea
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Maggie stared across the beach. The tide was coming in. But where was her daughter?
When three-year-old Olivia disappears from the beach, a happy family holiday comes to an abrupt end. Maggie is plunged into the darkest nightmare imaginable – what happened to her little girl?
Further along the coast, another mother is having problems too. Jennifer’s daughter Hailey is starting school, and it should be such a happy time, but the child has become moody and silent. Family life has never seemed so awkward, and Jennifer struggles to maintain control.
The tide ebbs and flows, and summer dies, but there is no comfort for Maggie, alone now at the cottage, or for Jennifer, still swamped by doubts.
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