by Darren Young
‘Is she all right?’
‘I’ve just got her into bed. But I’d stay away from us both unless you want it too.’
He took off his jacket and hung it over the banister. ‘I’ll make some tea.’
Danni went back to her mother and helped her under the bedclothes. She didn’t ask, and her mother didn’t offer anything by way of an explanation either, but she nodded a silent thank you as Danni plumped up a pillow and put it behind her. Then Danni went into her own room and began getting undressed and into her own bed. In the commotion she had forgotten how poorly she felt herself, and she lay under the covers as a wave of nausea swept over her.
The door knocked and her father brought in a cup of tea. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not great. But I’ll sleep it off.’
He kissed the top of her head and left her, telling her he was working in his study and to just shout if she needed anything. Danni nodded and tried to sleep, but it proved difficult. All she could think about was what might have happened had she not come home when she did. She lay awake most of the night and had every intention of asking her mother about the incident the next day.
But when she woke, late and after barely an hour’s sleep, there was no opportunity before Patricia left for work. And that evening, and for the rest of the week, her mother managed to avoid her or change the subject if they did end up alone together. It was strange for Danni – they’d always told each other most things; they were more like friends that way – but she could see her mother’s obvious discomfort, so she waited. Before she knew it, another week, then a month, then several months had passed, and Danni began to wonder if she had blown it out of proportion. By the time a year had gone by, she had all but forgotten about it.
But she was about to get a reminder.
2 | Danni
‘I just want you to leave me alone!’
Danni slammed the door of the taxi, narrowly avoiding taking the tips of his fingers with her, and gave her address to the driver. As the cab pulled away, Euan Corbett ran alongside for a few seconds until the car gathered speed and left him behind.
She sighed. The evening had turned out to be even worse than she had expected.
Euan was a little over two years younger than she was and had been what she described as her ‘sort of boyfriend’ for ten months, an off-and-on relationship, until a fortnight ago, when she’d ended it; or at least tried to. Ten months ago, she’d been carried along by the new-relationship excitement and semi-regular sex, and neither had wanted things to get serious, but then Euan had changed, while for Danni the novelty had already worn off. The age gap, or, more pertinently, the difference in maturity between them had become a problem. Danni had tried, as a compromise, to keep things as they were, but he had wanted more, wanting to see her almost every night. When she’d spent time with her best friend, Sam, or simply on her own, he had become moody, and if she even mentioned another man’s name, however innocently, he became inexplicably jealous, and so eventually she’d told him it was over.
But he had refused to leave it there, and had begun to harass her with text messages and calls until she’d ended up switching her phone off at work, and sometimes outside work too. Then he’d taken to turning up outside the dental practice when her shift finished, and after one such occasion she’d allowed herself to feel sorry for him and agreed to talk over a drink.
‘You’re wasting your time,’ her mother had said when she saw her putting on her favourite dress, and Danni knew she was probably right; but she also had this hope that she might be able to get him to change back.
‘He’s just a lad,’ her mother told her. ‘He needs to be a lad. He’s not ready for a relationship, even if he thinks he is.’
Danni knew he wasn’t. She’d known it from the minute she’d said yes originally, back at the start, when he’d pretended he wanted to find a new dentist as an excuse to talk to her. But, despite her mother and Sam trying to get her to see sense, she had found early-days Euan to be fun and charming; the boyishness was part of the attraction, and she’d allowed other parts of her body to rule her head. She had also enjoyed being a part of his world, as it had given her a brief break from hers. She would see him two or three nights a week, which was perfect for her, and, even though he could be immature, she just figured he’d do his growing up in the relationship.
But the fun had turned to petty arguments and then begun to border on obsessiveness – and the age gap felt more like ten than two years – so Danni had acted decisively.
But now Euan was suggesting she’d been too hasty.
‘You don’t need a girlfriend,’ she’d told him as they sat in a neutral pub earlier this evening with a bottled lager and a wine. She’d realised she didn’t need a boyfriend either.
‘It’ll be different,’ he’d promised, his words coming out machine-gun rapid as they always did when he was nervous. ‘I’ll be different.’
She doubted it. But he was using every last ounce of his charm to win her over, so she had agreed, reluctantly, to have another glass of wine. Except, when he went to the bar, he had got into an altercation with a man whom he accused of looking over at her, and Danni had put her coat on and left before he realised what had happened.
Outside, she had flagged down one of the taxis that frequently rolled by, and, as it pulled up at the kerb, Euan had come running out and tried to stop her getting inside.
‘Euan, please!’
He’d tried to convince her to get out, and that was when she had told him to leave her alone. It had sounded harsh, as though he were a nuisance-causing stranger rather than a spurned boyfriend, and she felt bad during the taxi ride home.
But enough was enough.
So, it was only a few minutes after nine o’clock when the taxi dropped her opposite her house. At least, she thought as she paid the driver, the relationship was definitely over now and she could move on. She was even looking forward to laughing about it one day with her mother.
The house was a four-bedroomed detached property on the outskirts of the village. Her parents had spent a fortune on it, to bring it back to life, after the previous owner, an elderly man well into his eighties, had died after allowing it to fall into a state of disrepair. Her mother, especially, had spent years putting her stamp on the place, decorating and redecorating every room several times and filling it with stylish furniture, paintings and flowers, and, Danni had always thought, warmth too.
But when she got to the front door she felt an unfamiliar chill, and thought she heard raised voices from inside.
She stopped and checked her phone in case she’d missed a call from them, but she hadn’t, so she stepped closer to the door. She heard her father speaking, more clearly now, and she tried to listen to what was being said. Then her mother’s voice argued back – Danni couldn’t remember them having a cross word before – and the situation sounded quite heated. She realised she was leaning forward with her ear pressed to the front door.
She stepped back.
They weren’t expecting her at this time. They didn’t know that her evening with Euan would go downhill so quickly, and she hadn’t called or texted them to tell them.
She wanted to know what they were arguing about, but she couldn’t stand on the step eavesdropping for much longer. And she didn’t want them to think she’d been listening, so she was about to rattle her keys in the door and make it noisily obvious that she was back home when she heard her father shout over the sound of the TV.
‘Bloody hell, Pat.’
Danni stepped back from the door instinctively. For Thomas Edwards that was extremely strong language; he absolutely detested swearing and didn’t allow it in the house. She put her key slowly into the lock and turned it until she heard a tiny click, then she put her hand on the door and carefully edged it forward until there was a small gap and she could hear them properly. She tensed her body, leaned into the gap and listened carefully.
‘Don’t talk down to me, then.’
>
‘But we’ve been over and over this.’
He sounded more frustrated than angry to Danni. She knew she should stop listening but she found her feet stuck firmly where they were and her curiosity getting the better of her.
‘You’ve been over it, you mean,’ she heard her mother say loudly, and with an equal measure of frustration in her tone.
‘We both have. And I thought we agreed.’
‘So, what if I’ve changed my mind?’
‘It’s not just about you, though, is it?’ her father said.
‘No, it’s not, it’s about us all.’
‘Yes, and I said no.’
‘She’ll find out one day.’
There was suddenly silence, and Danni was concerned that they might have heard her or that one of them was going to storm off into the hallway and see her, but the voices started again, calmer this time.
‘Look, we’re going round in circles,’ her father said.
‘I know.’
‘Let’s sleep on it and see how we feel tomorrow.’
There was a break in the background sound from the television at the exact moment her mother let out a defeatist sigh. ‘OK,’ Danni heard her say.
She was conscious that the conversation was ending and if she walked in now they’d worry she had heard, so she took a step back, carefully closed the door and then turned her key and made a more dramatic entrance, cursing under her breath and throwing her handbag to the floor.
‘What’s happened?’ her mother said, rushing into the hall. Danni stood on the mat and angrily kicked off her heels.
‘If I ever say I’m going to give Euan another chance,’ she said, ‘please shoot me.’
Her mother smiled sympathetically. ‘He’s too young for you, Danielle,’ she said, trying, but failing dismally, to hide the I-told-you-so in her tone. She was the only person who called her by her full name.
‘He’s history now,’ Danni said, and they smiled at each other.
They both walked into the living room. Her father was sitting on the sofa pretending to watch the TV, although the sound wasn’t on anywhere near high enough for him to be really listening to it.
‘So,’ said Danni awkwardly, ‘what have you two been up to?’
‘Nothing,’ her father said with an unconvincing shrug. ‘Just watching this.’
Danni looked at the screen, where a brightly coloured bird was feeding a nest full of young chicks while a man’s mellow voice described it with panache. She couldn’t remember her parents ever watching a wildlife programme in her entire life.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said and walked towards the door. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Night, love,’ they both called after her in unison, a little too rehearsed.
Danni spent the next two hours sitting on her bed replaying the conversation she’d overheard, analysing every word but coming back to that one sentence – one that possibly had nothing at all to do with her. She’ll find out one day.
But who was this she? And what would she find out one day?
Danni climbed under the covers and switched off the light. She had an early shift in the morning and knew it wouldn’t hurt to get a full eight hours’ sleep in for once. As she closed her eyes, the image of her mother in the cold bathwater, tear-lines on her face, resurfaced in her mind. That incident, almost forgotten, suddenly seemed significant again.
There was something her parents weren’t saying.
Not to her, anyway.
And she was going to ask her mother what it was.
3 | Patricia
‘C’mon, move over.’
The road was more than wide enough for two vehicles and it was probably wide enough for three, side by side, but in the darkness, with the rain that had been falling since midday lying all over the road surface and covering most of the white lines that ran down its centre, it seemed much narrower.
It was early evening, but it had been dark since mid-afternoon. The rush-hour traffic had cleared and there were fewer cars, and therefore less spray from their wheels, and that made driving a little easier. But it was still a horrible night, and you had to take extreme care, keep your wits about you and your eyes on the road. If you did all that, then it shouldn’t have been too difficult.
But the oncoming vehicle had a driver who was doing none of those things. Their car was straddling what could be seen of the white lines and they were going much faster than a safe speed. Their headlights were old and dim; she could barely pick them out in the gloom; she just knew they were getting closer and closer.
‘For goodness’ sake, move over,’ she said, concerned but not overly. But the distance between her car and the one coming towards her was getting shorter and two of its wheels were on her side of the carriageway. She flashed her main beam but it seemed to have no impact.
The wiper blades on her Ford estate car were doing their best, at full speed, to keep her windscreen clear, but the rain was so heavy that every droplet they removed was replaced by dozens more. She was blinking and moving her head from side to side to try to get a better angle through the zigzag of water running down the glass when suddenly the oncoming car put its headlights on full beam, and the dazzling brightness forced her to shield her eyes with her left hand.
‘One minute I can’t see you,’ she seethed, ‘and now this.’
She was just a hundred yards away now, and she began to wonder if the other driver knew she was there. Or even cared. She put her hand on the horn and pushed it firmly down, but it had never been the loudest of horns, and with the sound of the storm outside the car it was probably barely audible.
For the first time, she was afraid. They were too close now to just hope for the best. If one of them didn’t do something, one or both of them was going to be involved in an accident.
Seventy-five yards. She had to make a decision.
At that stage, thinking quickly, she saw two options. She could cross on to the opposite side of the road herself, the side where there was slightly more room and which was away from the cliff edge. But it wasn’t without risks; she knew that if the other driver corrected themselves at the last moment she’d hit them head on, and it was impossible to second-guess what they might do, especially under pressure or in a panic.
The alternative was to carry on and hope to squeeze through the small gap that existed between the oncoming car and the steel safety barrier. It would be tight, but she had to presume that when the car got that close it would see or hear her and the driver would realise their error and correct their position. It was what she would do.
Fifty yards. Surely they can see me by now, she thought. She decided it was safer to stay on her own side of the road. She pressed her palm down on the horn as far as it would go, keeping it there. She flashed her headlights once too, for good measure, and watched for signs of the onrushing car adjusting its direction and speed.
But it didn’t.
If anything, the marginal move it did make was further on to her side, and it didn’t seem to slow at all. She was suddenly aware, as she slowed down to less than twenty miles per hour, that the other driver wasn’t going to do anything. Its headlights poured in through the windscreen, momentarily blinding her, and she knew that she had nowhere to go; her options had gone. Even the gap she’d hoped to get through had narrowed, and there was no hope of squeezing through any more. It was the other car or the barrier; she was definitely going to hit one of them.
She screamed.
Instinct took over at that moment and, as the other car loomed in front of her, she pulled the wheel to the left, swerving into the safety barrier with an impact that jolted her body from side to side. Her car’s front wing ground against the metal as she tried to turn back on to the road, but, with nowhere to go, she slid along the next barrier too. She tried to correct herself by pulling right, but her tyres had already gone over the edge; the third barrier gave way and her bulky estate car battered its way through it as though it wasn’t there.
On the other side was a slope, steep and unforgiving.
For a split second, her car left the ground completely, then the wheels reconnected with the bank with a heavy thud and then gathered pace as it rushed downhill until it clipped a tree stump and flipped in the air, coming down on its roof. It continued to slide, now upside down, and she screamed again as its side windows shattered and the fragments flew about around her. The Ford’s headlights lit up the ground in front, affording her a brief glimpse of what was ahead in the darkness: a steep grassy bank, punctuated by trees. Her car slid between two of the bigger ones and reached the bottom of the bank, where it flipped again and rolled three times before juddering to a halt, on its side on the edge of a ravine.
The stench of fuel filled the air and she lay in shock as the car teetered above the drop, wheels spinning and rain pouring in through the glassless windows. It seemed for a second that it might stop there, but one last gasp of forward momentum carried the car over and it fell again, hurtling quickly downwards until it hit the bottom of the ravine and could fall no further.
The car ended up at an angle rather than completely upside down but the woman could see the floor was still above her head. She felt liquid on her neck, dripping from her body above her, and searing pain. The liquid ran down her chin until she could taste blood on her lips. She tried to cry out but no sound made it through. Instead, shock was enveloping her whole body, and in the faint glow from the car’s headlights she looked up and saw that her legs, although she couldn’t feel them, were almost completely crushed by the mangled seat.
She was sick, vomiting on to her own forehead. The smell of fuel almost overwhelmed her, and as rainwater fell in through the glassless windows she was sick again as the smell of petrol and the taste of her vomit mixed at the back of her throat. Her hands scrambled around for her phone as the pain began to come; it was probably her only chance of survival. But even after opening her seatbelt to give her more reach she couldn’t find it, and she realised her bag had been flung out during the descent.
