by Heidi Perks
Exhausted, I let the hot water burn into my cold, aching muscles, but I can’t relax, and after a while I pull myself out, grabbing the towel from the rail and wrapping it around me before trying the handle.
It doesn’t open. I pull at it again, futilely twisting it, calling Annie’s name, and after a while I hear her approaching, finally unlocking it with an apology that she hadn’t realised.
I stare at her in disbelief as I follow her downstairs to where she’s laid out a pair of old jogging bottoms and a fleece, both of which are far too small for me but I put on anyway. ‘Are you sure you didn’t mean to lock the bathroom door?’ I ask, following her into the kitchen where she’s fiddling with a lighter, her shaking hand attempting to light another candle.
‘I thought we deserved something stronger,’ she says, ignoring me. ‘I’ve poured us both a sherry.’ She finally lights the wick and tosses the lighter into a drawer, shutting it quickly, pressing her hand against it for a moment too long.
‘Did you find out what the noise was?’ I ask as she gestures to two glasses. I take a small sip of the sweet drink, grimacing but thanking her anyway.
Annie shakes her head. ‘Must have been something outside.’
She seems nervous, evading my questions. There is more she’s not telling me, but with nowhere either of us can go, I resolve that at some point during the night I’ll find out what it is.
Annie brushes past me, back to the living room. ‘You know, I never knew how your mum could have pushed her with such force,’ she says. ‘Her being such a slight woman. The way Iona hit that rock …’
I feel myself stiffen. I don’t like her insinuation and there’s something about what she’s just said that doesn’t sit right, though I can’t put my finger on it. ‘Annie, I realise you don’t want me speaking to the police,’ I say, ‘but you can’t suddenly be happy to put the blame on Danny.’
‘I just wish I could tell you exactly what happened,’ she sighs.
‘And that’s just it. You can’t. But you told me upstairs you always believed it was my mum. Now Danny thinks he did it and—’ I break off, waving my arm in the air as tears fill my eyes.
There are two possibilities, neither of which bear thinking about, and I’m left suspended between them with no idea what I’d prefer the truth to be.
I take another sip of sherry and sink on to the sofa, closing my eyes as I picture myself opposite me in my counselling room.
What would you prefer? I ask. That your mum was a killer, or your brother?
It’s a trick question. There’s no good outcome. It’s like the story of the mother we discussed in training who had two sons and one murdered the other.
What did she do again? I ask.
In the end she stood by the son who’d killed the other because he was all she had left.
‘True story,’ I say aloud.
‘Sorry?’ Annie asks. ‘Stella, are you okay?’
My eyes snap open. ‘I know you’re worried about what might happen to you, Annie, but regardless, we need to go to the police.’
‘Oh, my dear, I’m too old to be worrying about myself any more.’
I lean forward, even though it feels like an effort to do so. ‘I need to get off the island, Annie.’ The thought of being trapped here is suffocating. I can almost see an imaginary clock sucking the time away, just like the air around me. I flap the neck of the fleece I’m wearing, wondering if Annie feels as hot as I do.
‘I don’t see any way you could possibly do that. Who knows you’re here?’ She takes a slow sip of her drink, peering steadily over the rim of her glass.
‘No one. I didn’t even tell Bonnie.’
I take another sip myself, resting my head back as the room sways softly out of focus.
‘Oh, God. Bonnie,’ I groan. I had almost forgotten my sister. Everything she’s feared will slot together and make her realise she was right to feel the way she always did – that she has never belonged.
Bonnie must have been taken from her real mother at such a young age. I know the impact that can have; I have clients with adopted children who have attachment disorder. Triggers are set in place before we can even imagine.
Bonnie was obsessed that Mum was always trying to fix her with those sessions – maybe Mum was trying to prevent something from happening even if she didn’t know what.
‘Stella?’ Annie’s voice stirs me but it’s an effort to lift my head. ‘You obviously need to rest.’ She pulls a blanket over my legs, rubbing a hand against my shin. ‘Lie down.’
‘No.’ I force myself upright. ‘I have to find a way to get back.’
She takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. ‘I have something I need to show you.’ Her slippers patter across the hallway floor.
My head is beginning to throb. I press a hand against my hot skin. My mouth feels dry. I need a drink. When I stand it takes a moment for me to right myself as the room swishes in circles.
At the sink I lean my head under the tap, gulping down water, then, pulling out drawers, I search for paracetamol, my fingers trailing over elastic bands and old postcards when they suddenly stop, resting on a white piece of card.
On it are three words of an incomplete sentence. In block capitals they say I TOLD YOU –
Half dazed, I pick it up, staring at the writing, looking over my shoulder before clutching it tightly and making my way to the hallway.
Annie has disappeared into the back room. The door is wide open, its key dangling from the lock. I hover in the doorway, lifting the card. My heart is beating far too rapidly. ‘You sent me the notes.’
She turns around. Out of her hands spill a fan of photographs, their box lying open on the table next to her.
She doesn’t speak.
‘It was you,’ I say. ‘You sent me threats. Why would you do that?’
‘I didn’t want you here,’ she says eventually.
‘So you tried to scare me?’
‘You were threatening us all—’
‘I thought you were on my side,’ I cry.
‘I am on your side.’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘No. If you were you wouldn’t send me anonymous notes telling me to stop digging, that I wouldn’t like what I’d find.’
Something at the bottom of the box catches my attention. My hand reaches out for it but she pulls it out of my way.
‘What was that?’ I say.
‘What was what?’
‘In that box. It’s Danny’s drawing book. What are you doing with it?’
My head is spinning and I grip on to the desk to stop myself swaying. ‘There are no rocks,’ I say suddenly.
‘What?’ Annie frowns.
I shake my head, pieces of a puzzle flitting around it, trying hard to make them fit together. ‘Earlier you said the way Iona hit that rock. There are no rocks on that part of the beach. She couldn’t have hit one.’
The overheard snatches of conversation in the police station dance in front of me. What had been said? The injuries from the fall could have killed her but they weren’t sure. It was made to look like she hit a rock.
If Annie answers I don’t hear. My head is whirring, thoughts wrapping themselves around each other. ‘I don’t feel right,’ I say, stumbling forward. ‘Annie? I don’t feel well.’
I wait for her to help but she steps further away.
‘What did you do?’ My words are little more than a whispered slur. Even I hear the way they snake out of my mouth, twisting in the air. I no longer know if I’m asking her what she did to Iona or to me.
Annie’s eyes have darkened. Or maybe it’s the effect of the flickering light. Either way I try hard to focus, to gauge her reactions, because I know well enough it’s the little things that give people away.
Her fingers grip her desk. She takes a deep breath that she isn’t able to let go. Her eyes try to focus on me but she blinks frequently as if searching for the answer she should give.
Her hands shake now as she looks
away. ‘I never wanted it to get to this, Stella, but you wouldn’t stop.’ She says it like this is my fault.
I hold my hand over my mouth as nausea soars through me again.
‘You just kept going,’ she says, as if tired by the thought of it. ‘Like your mum always used to. When she got hold of something she wouldn’t let it go. She got herself into a state about Iona, panicking everyone. You know, I could have done something about it if she hadn’t gone and admitted to the girl what we’d all done.’
‘Annie, I really don’t feel right.’ I slide on to a green leather chair that sits beside the desk. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she ignores the fact I’ve slumped forward.
‘Iona would have had us all sent to prison, but I could have prevented it if your mother hadn’t said anything. I had no choice in the end. She fell off the cliff, it could have been Maria, it could have been your brother, I’ve no idea who did it. The fact is by the time I got to Iona, she was screaming bloody murder. I had to clean up the mess your mother made.’
As hazy as the room is, these words hit me.
‘That’s all I’m ever doing, cleaning up your family’s messes,’ she says, and this time her words fizzle out and darkness hits me.
Evergreen Island
8 September 1993
Maria waited for Annie to speak for what felt like an eternity. ‘Who else knows she’s still on the island?’ Annie asked finally.
‘No one.’
Annie raised her eyes.
‘Only David. He knew she didn’t get on the ferry.’
‘Then we get rid of the body.’
‘What – we can’t – what are we supposed to do with her?’ Maria glanced out to sea where the waves were beginning to whip up. She could feel the air still. It was always this way before a storm and the thought unsettled her even more.
‘Go home,’ Annie told her, ‘before your family comes looking for you. Leave it with me.’
‘Not Bob …’ Maria gasped. She didn’t want him getting involved.
‘Leave it with me,’ Annie said again, firmly.
Maria ran back, her head spinning with what she’d just agreed to. There was no way they could get away with this, surely? But what would happen to them otherwise? An investigation could find her guilty, or worse, Danny. Involving the police would open up all their other secrets and she still wasn’t prepared to do that.
Inside, she crept up to Danny’s bedroom and gently opened his door. He pulled himself upright, his eyes filled with panic.
‘She’s fine,’ Maria breathed, her voice rising patchily. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I’m sure.’ She tried to smile, watching her son’s shoulders drop though he still looked at her uneasily.
‘Did you get my book?’ he asked.
She shook her head. She hadn’t even thought of the damn book. ‘I’ll look tomorrow.’
Maria crept out of his room, closing the door behind her, her eyes filled with tears as she leant against it.
Now she had to tell David. And then they would have to leave. There was no way she could stay on this island after what had just happened.
Maria wished David would hold her close, but he was clenching her shaking body at arm’s length. She’d told him it was an accident, that Iona and Danny were arguing and she’d tried to get Danny’s book when Iona slipped backwards over the edge of the cliff.
She sensed he didn’t believe her, but she’d started on this story now, and even though it wasn’t too late to admit what had really happened, she never did. Maria would rather he always thought of her as capable of manslaughter than their son. She couldn’t bear to see that in David’s eyes every time he looked at Danny.
Instead she begged that Danny must never know Iona was dead. That he had to believe she was alright.
No one else would see it as an accident – at least they agreed on that. Because as soon as the police were called, they’d turn up all kinds of interesting information including what Iona was doing on the island in the first place.
Then the secret that they’d been hiding on Evergreen for seventeen years would be out.
Maria couldn’t stop sobbing, gulping lungfuls of air she couldn’t swallow. ‘We need to leave,’ she told David. ‘As soon as possible.’ She would have dragged the children out of their beds and fled that night.
But they agreed that would be unwise. They would go the following night. Tell everyone David had found another job because the ferry was losing them money. She would lie to Susan about the extent of their financial troubles and come hell or high water they would be off the island within twenty-four hours.
David agreed, but he remained nervous about not telling the police. Maria carried on begging him not to, that Danny couldn’t possibly know Iona was dead.
That was when she saw the light dawn on him, and she wondered if he’d guessed she was covering for their son. Only he didn’t ask. Maybe he would rather think she was the one capable, too.
That night they made hurried plans for the next few days, both of them talking as an invisible wall grew between them. At some point David had cried out, ‘We should never have done what we did.’
Maria’s heart had stopped beating in that moment, her mouth hanging open. It was a despicable thing to say when they both knew it meant they’d never have had their daughter.
Right then she’d seen their future clearly and she knew for certain at some point it would no longer be together. It broke her heart.
Months later Maria sat alone one night and considered what she finally knew to be the answer to her friend’s question. When Susan had asked her if she could ever trust anyone, there was in fact only one person she believed she could hand-on-heart trust with her family’s life. And she spent the rest of her days thinking this was Annie.
PRESENT
Chapter Thirty-Four
The rain has stopped. This is the first thing I notice. The second is that it’s pitch-black and I’m now lying face down on the back-room floor.
I try moving my head to focus on the golden carriage clock that sits high on a bookcase, but it’s heavy and my eyes swim as the clock hands go in and out in wavy lines. I cannot make out the time.
Next I try shuffling my legs to push myself to sit, but it feels as though I’ve been anaesthetised. Bonnie described once how it felt like she’d had the legs of an elephant when she’d had an epidural. I’d laughed at the time.
Bonnie.
Sickness surges through me and my head drops back on to my hands. An unbelievable wave of sadness hits me at the thought of my sister. I wish I’d told her I was coming. I wish I’d told anyone. I never should have come in the first place.
My eyes flutter closed again, their lids pressing together. It feels much better like this.
There’s a dampness between my legs and I inch my hand closer to touch it. Have I wet myself?
My eyelids flicker open again. There are voices the other side of the door. Annie. I hear her talking to someone, telling him – what is she saying? She says they have no choice.
Bob answers – something undecipherable.
‘You’ll have to,’ Annie says.
She’s brought him here. He knows I’m lying on the other side of the door. Why’s she done that?
I let out a barely audible groan as I roll my head forward, face flat against the floor, hoping to muffle the sound.
Tears of frustration leak from my eyes, pooling around my face.
Bonnie will know I’m missing, so I won’t be left for twenty-five years, yet it still might be too late. By the time she starts looking I could be long gone.
It hurts to lift my head to look at the carriage clock again. Still its gold numerals flicker out of focus. The sweet taste of sherry lingers on my tongue. My mouth is so dry. Annie must have drugged me. I’m not sure if the pain at the side of my head means she also hit me or I fell out of the chair.
My a
rm is a lead weight, but I reach it slowly to a small, sticky patch of blood on my temple.
The voices are still outside the room but they are more muffled. I need to get out before they come back for me, though the door must be locked, and with them on the other side of it, the only choice I have is a small window behind the desk.
I close my eyes one last time, pulling in all the strength I have, taking long, deep breaths before I force myself on to my palms.
Finally the hands of the clock come into focus. It is nearly midnight. Only hours before they’ll charge Danny or let him go.
Fight or flight? I’ll do either.
I ease myself on to my knees, grabbing the edge of the desk as my eyes blur and bile fills my mouth, and, despite the closeness of the window, it still feels out of my reach.
There is a slam outside the door as Bob asks, ‘Are you ready?’
I try to push myself to my feet, but the room spins around me like a waltzer. My elbow gives way, I drop down again, my head thudding against the floor once more.
‘Where is she?’ Bob’s voice booms into the room and my eyelids twitch.
Annie’s distant response comes quickly. ‘I left her on the floor.’
He steps inside and sees my feet. I close my eyes again to his panting breath; one hand curls around my ankle as he finds his way in the dark. ‘She’s out cold.’
I’m grateful my head is turned away from him. Flight is no longer an option so I have no choice but to fight, though I don’t see how when I can barely move.
Bob’s wrapping both his hands under my legs, dragging me out from beside the desk.
‘Is she breathing?’ Annie asks from behind him. Her voice is close now.
Bob grunts. Thick fingers wrap around my wrist, squeezing too tight. ‘Yes, but her pulse is slow.’ His fingers release and I hear him shuffling to his feet. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Annie says quietly. ‘I don’t know, I guess – I can’t …’ Her words hang in the air before she scoops them up and says, ‘She knows too much.’
