My eyes scoured the room and rested on a family crowded in by a figure lying in a bed. A woman in her forties stifled her sobs in a tissue while her husband rubbed her shoulders, desperate to hold things together. A young girl of around ten sat on the bed and stroked the patient’s long blonde hair. They looked so similar that I could only presume they were sisters. When the doctor came, he spoke to the family in a hushed tone and I gathered by the woman’s reaction that it was bad news. After I realised I was intruding on a private moment, I turned my attention to my own loved one and my own source of worry.
Lucy began to groan as she stirred in her sleep.
“Lucy?” I said softly.
Her head lolled to one side before she opened her eyes.
“Charlie.”
She blinked repeatedly.
“It’s me, Luce.”
“I was dreaming of you… am I still dreaming?”
Her voice sounded groggy and hoarse.
“No. You’re wide awake now.” I smiled.
“Will I be OK?”
“According to the doctor you’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound positive. “Do you remember anything?”
Her brow furrowed as she tried to answer my question.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “It might come back to you later. You’ve been through a lot today, you need rest.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything past last night.” Her brow furrowed again and she tried to sit up. “Why can’t I remember anything? What happened to me?” She looked around. “Why am I here?”
Her voice was laced with panic. I grabbed her hand again and kissed her knuckles in an attempt to calm her.
“You’ve had your stomach pumped. Russ and I found you unconscious.”
“Why? Did I have an allergic reaction? Was it the pancakes from last night?
“No,” I said gently, “they found antidepressants in your system.”
She stared at the ceiling as she took in what I was saying.
“But I don’t take them… I don’t need them. “
“I know. I believe you, Luce.”
“But I’m not allergic to antidepressants. Why would they need to pump my stomach?”
“Because you had over the recommended amount in your bloodstream. It caused you to fall unconscious.”
“An overdose?” she asked loudly.
I looked around the ward to see if anyone had heard her. As I did I saw Russ returning with a jug of water.
“Don’t say anything to Russ about this. OK?”
She nodded and I let her hand drop.
“There you are, Luce, I brought you some water.”
“Thank you,” she replied as Russ poured her a glass.
“Good to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“I’m OK, I’m not in pain. Just uncomfortable on all these pillows,” she said, pulling one from beneath her and tossing it on the floor.
“Aye, you just rest now, lass.”
Lucy lay back against the remaining pillows. It wasn’t long before her breathing slowed and she found the sweet calm of sleep.
Russ turned to me then.
“Why do you think she did it?”
“I’m not sure she did.”
“She must’ve,” he said confidently. “Jamie’s funeral has to have affected her more than we thought.”
I wanted to tell him Lucy’s secret: that her marriage to Jamie was a sham. But it wasn’t up to me to divulge this and I didn’t want to lose her trust. It surprised me that Russ would think Lucy capable of taking her own life; I thought he knew her better than that.
“I ran into the doc in the corridor, he was saying he wants to keep her in a few days for monitoring. He’s worried about her mental state,” Russ said without looking at me.
“I can take care of her.”
“I would never ask you to do that.”
I shrugged. “It makes sense. You have the business to run, I have bags of spare time. Why not?”
He cocked his head slightly to one side as he watched Lucy. After a few seconds he placed a hand roughly on my shoulder.
“Thanks, bud, I owe you.”
I nodded as I attempted to prevent a grin from forming on my face. Russ gazed over my shoulder and I watched as his face lit up in a smile. When I turned I saw the reason for his sudden happiness. Erin was hurrying towards us. Her features were pinched, indicating stress, and her makeup was smudged around her eyes. Her clothes were wrinkled, indicating she’d thrown on the first outfit she’d found lying around.
“Is Lucy OK? What happened?” she asked, before clasping one hand over her mouth. “Is she unconscious?”
“Just sleeping,” Russ explained as he pulled Erin towards him. She hugged him tightly before combing a hand through his hair.
“I don’t understand why Lucy would do something like this. She seemed to be getting better.”
“I guess Jamie’s death was too much for her,” Russ said.
“But she was fine at his funeral. I expected her to be worse,” Erin stated.
“She’s good at hiding her depression.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Erin gazed at Lucy. “I wish I’d known. I could've done something, offered support.”
Erin’s face crumpled and her eyes filled with fresh tears that left black makeup streaks on her cheeks where they fell. Russ folded her into his arms while muttering words of reassurance. The scene reminded me of the year before I died, the year Russ first met Erin.
They’d had an intense and often aggressive relationship. They would fight one minute and then be affectionate and nurturing the next. There was no consistency there and Lucy and I would worry about the effect this was having on Russ. To an outsider their relationship seemed full of passion and excitement, but after a while even I began to wonder whether such intensity was a good thing.
On many occasions Russ would turn up to our weekly pub meetings with scratches and bruises on his body. When I questioned him he would shrug and say Erin was a free spirit who kept him on his toes. Occasionally he’d even display his battle scars proudly, but would never talk about the argument that had caused them. They didn’t often fight in public and I was never a witness to Erin’s violent outbursts but I did find it strange that they appeared so consumed by each other in public but fought heavily behind closed doors.
I watched them together; their relationship was still all-consuming and bordering on obsessive. Russ watched Lucy’s sleeping face while Erin planted soft kisses on his neck. She held his chin in one hand in an attempt to turn his face towards her. I suddenly felt awkward, as though I was witnessing something private. I told them I’d be back later, to check on Lucy, and made a swift exit. They were so consumed by each other they hardly noticed my departure.
Chapter Twenty
Lucy’s stay in hospital seemed to drag and I felt relieved when I was told she would be discharged. Convincing the medical team her mental state was stable proved to be difficult but Lucy managed to assure them that it was merely a case of forgetfulness with the drugs and not a suicide attempt. I assured them that she would be monitored closely by me. She had new medication to take and was still in no fit state to do much but I was simply grateful she was still breathing.
She lay on the sofa with her duvet draped over her and everything she needed nearby. I had even given her a bell for to ring if she wanted me to come. I looked at her from the kitchen as I made us both a mug of hot chocolate. She was watching an old episode of The Wonder Years and by the sound of her intermittent laughter she was enjoying it.
“There you are, me lady,” I said, placing the steaming mug on the bedside table.
“Oooh, marshmallows, I didn’t think I had any in.”
“You didn’t. I nipped out while you were napping.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, I wanted it to be like old times. It’s getting on for September now, the air is cooling. Remember our tradition?”
�
�When the first chill is upon us we indulge in our first hot chocolate.” She grinned up at me.
“That’s right.” I smiled. “I even smelled burning coal earlier and saw a plume of smoke coming from Mr Raven’s chimney.”
“He must be feeling better if he’s built a fire.”
“He’s been ill?”
“Yeah, some sort of stomach flu. I hope he’s OK”
“I hope you’re OK,” I said, taking her hand. “Can you remember anything yet?”
“No.” She sounded disappointed. “I find it hard to believe that someone would drug me without my knowledge.”
“I know you didn’t do it to yourself.”
Lucy went quiet and stared at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?”
“The security cameras. Maybe they caught something,”
I brought Lucy’s laptop over to her on the sofa and she entered the password. She clicked on the footage that had been collected on the night of her overdose.
When the time read 04:30 we watched as an image of myself leaving the treehouse appeared on the screen. I stopped in the middle of the lawn and looked back, something I didn’t even remember doing. Once I’d disappeared we saw the lights in the treehouse go out. Half an hour later they came back on again.
“Did you switch the lights on?” I asked Lucy.
“Maybe I went to the bathroom, I don’t know.”
The lights went off again a few minutes later. We watched the door intently, but apart from a couple of foxes on the hunt for food, there was no sign of any movement near it. Eventually Russ and I could be seen opening the door and entering the treehouse; after that Lucy was seen carried out on a stretcher. Russ followed and then, after a few minutes, so did I.
“What were you doing in there?” Lucy asked.
“Looking for evidence.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you didn’t do it.”
I pulled out the suicide note I had found and flattened it out. I’d carried it in my wallet for fear of its going missing.
“This doesn’t even look like your handwriting,” I pointed out.
She nodded as she read it.
“Do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want to do this to you?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “I can’t think of anyone with a grudge against me.”
“What about Jamie’s parents?”
“They disapprove of me but they would never wish me dead.” Lucy sounded disgusted by the suggestion.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that they’re the only ones who have shown any open hostility towards you.”
“It’s not them, they’re not capable of anything like this.”
“OK, they’re off the list then,” I said gently.
Lucy looked at me, her expression one of such sadness I couldn’t help but reach for her hand.
“Please can we stop this? Suspecting my friends and acquaintances of attempted murder feels immoral.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling guilty for even suggesting it.
“Can we please just lie here and watch a film or at least do something to take my mind off recent events?”
I kissed her on the forehead. “Of course we can. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I know. I feel safe with you here.”
I kissed her tenderly and she made space for me on the sofa. I clamped my arms around her and pulled her close. Her hair felt soft against my cheek and the heady smell of coconut filled my nostrils. Lucy pressed play on the remote control and the opening credits began to roll.
The film was a romance and we had seen it many times before. It was about a young couple torn apart by war. The hero of the story gets captured during a military mission and the heroine is left believing that he died in battle. When he returns he discovers that she has a new life with someone else. It’s not long before they find out that the war has changed them both and they are left wondering what the future holds for them.
Lucy’s penchant for tragic stories extended to films as well as books and was something about her I’d never really understood. I once asked why she found them so attractive. She replied that the tragic stories were the ones that best reflected real life; sometimes love isn’t about growing old together but about sacrifice.
I listened to her steady breathing and realised she was asleep. The film hadn’t been playing long but she had already drifted off, leaving me behind for her dream world.
I woke up the next morning with a stiff neck. I managed to release my arm from under Lucy without her stirring and decided I would leave her to snooze for the rest of the morning. I made her breakfast and turned the TV on.
Afterwards, I went into the garden and picked her some flowers. I saw that she was growing sweet peas so I picked a few and added them to the already mismatched bunch I was carrying. I had picked all the flowers that were still blooming, including hydrangeas, gladioli and sunflowers with a sprinkling of lavender and sweet-scented roses. It was a bizarre collection but it was the only way I could apologise for suspecting Lucy’s friends of harming her the night before.
When I presented her with the imperfect bunch she grinned happily.
“You haven’t given me flowers in a long time.”
“I guess I’m making up for it then.”
She smiled sweetly as she arranged them in an unusually shaped vase.
“Lucy,” I said as I watched her, “my time here, my time with you, will only last so long. I need you to understand that you’ll have to continue living your life without me.”
She had stopped to listen to my speech. When I’d finished speaking she turned her attention back to the flowers and continued with her primping.
“I know,” she said sadly.
As I was clearing away the kitchen equipment I had used for breakfast, she placed a hand on my arm and pulled me towards her. Her arms slid around my waist. Resting my chin on her head, I rocked her gently while I hummed a familiar tune. It was the song we had danced to at the young farmers’ ball when we were teenagers, our first dance. I closed my eyes as we slow danced in the kitchen. Unlike our first dance together this one ended with a kiss.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked hesitantly.
“Almost back to normal.”
“Do you feel up to a drive?”
“I think I could.”
With Snoop in tow we piled into the Aston Martin, making sure to pack a picnic for the journey. As I climbed into the driver’s seat I took in the familiar scent of the car. I placed my hands on the steering wheel and closed my eyes. Another of life’s pleasures I had missed. I turned the key and the engine roared to life while I pumped the accelerator repeatedly just so I could hear the deep growl of the engine.
I drove through the village and we spotted all the usual suspects, nattering away in the sun. We watched as Mrs Brown stopped to chat to a customer she was serving in the tearooms. She looked up as we passed and gave a small wave. Mr Raven was out feeding the ducks as usual and we saw him laugh as one of his feathered friends attempted to snatch a piece of bread that lay on another duck’s back. Lastly, we saw Mr Vain as he was leaving his cottage. His skin was a ghostly white and there were dark circles under his eyes. I remembered the day I’d caught him asking for forgiveness in church and hoped there wasn’t anything wrong with his health.
We passed children playing in the river with boats on strings and a blow-up dinghy. When I gazed across at Lucy she had a contented smile on her face that was infectious. We reached the grassy moor and farmland and I marvelled at the beauty of the scenery.
When we passed The Priest’s House we saw a group of people gather at the bottom of the old stone steps, confetti in hand and genuine smiles on their faces. The bride and groom appeared at the top of the stairs and exchanged a secret smile before they descended into a cloud of confetti. The bride laughed as the groom swiped at her dress in an attempt to remove the small
pieces of colourful paper stuck to her satin gown.
“You made a beautiful bride,” I said as we watched the wedding.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
Her brow furrowed as she turned to me.
“Wasn’t that difficult? To see me marry someone else?”
“It was hard,” I admitted, staring straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” Lucy said sadly. “But if you saw the wedding, didn’t you witness the proposition? The day Jamie came to me with the idea for a false marriage?”
“No, I didn’t see that. By then I’d already promised to let you go. I missed a few years before I watched you get married.”
“But you witnessed the wedding? The proposition was many months before that.”
“I guess I wasn’t ready to let you go.”
The words lingered in the air and a sense of sadness filled the car. The atmosphere was eased slightly by Snoop sticking his head out of the passenger window, his fur blown backwards by the breeze.
I parked the car in a layby and gave it one last glance before resuming our journey on foot. I slung the backpack over my shoulders and hopped over a stile and into a field that contained an outcrop of rock formations. We watched a few climbers as they struggled for handholds while scaling the rockface.
“I remember when you used to be a climber,” Lucy said as she watched.
“The skill comes in handy now and again.” I grinned.
We walked around the rock formation until we found a section with easy access to the top. I held on to Lucy’s elbow the entire way and asked her throughout the journey whether she was in any pain. She was annoyed by my concern and I stopped asking, pinching myself every time I felt the urge to enquire after her welfare.
When we reached the top our spirits were lifted by the view of a grand aqueduct that stood proudly above the rolling landscape, its archways casting decorative shadows on the grassy fields below. We lay back on the tartan picnic blanket and basked in the sun as it warmed our faces.
We ate the food in peace, drinking in the scene. Eventually I built up the courage to ask Lucy a question that had been on my mind since Jamie’s funeral.
The Life and Second Life of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 2) Page 22
