by Amanda James
My gut registers the jab. Not going to be easy then. ‘Hey, because I’m marrying again doesn’t alter the fact that I loved your dad. I’ll always love him ’til the day I die.’ My eyes fill, and I swallow a lump in my throat.
Helena sighs and her eyes are moist too. ‘Mum, I want you to be happy – I honestly do. But I don’t think Dan will make you that. He’s too self-centred, controlling, and all the things Jack said about him.’ She holds a finger up as I’m about to say something. ‘I know I said he was nice in the early days, and encouraged you to go into business with him, and you would have lost your house if not, so I did have a method in my madness. But I’ve seen his true colours since. Just little things he says and does.’ She puts her hand on mine and gives it a squeeze. ‘I don’t trust him, Mum.’
What do I say to that? There’s nothing to say really. She’s my daughter and I love her, so I’ll just have to accept her views. ‘Okay, love. I can’t make you like him or the fact we’re marrying. And believe me, I’m grateful you’re coming to the wedding.’ Unlike your brother is left unsaid, but it’s loud in the conversation nevertheless.
‘Of course we’re coming. You’re my mum and I love you too.’ We look into each other’s eyes, mirror images apart from the crow’s feet edging mine. Then she shakes her head and downs her Prosecco. ‘Oh fuck it! Look. I’ll come with you to see the dress, the cake, and Christ knows what else, but don’t expect me to be sweetness and light to him on the day.’
I do a fist pump and give her a big hug. She smiles, and I clap my hands in glee – pull a daft face. We both crack out laughing and I order more drinks. Thank God we’re getting back to normal. It’s been awful without her.
At reception I pay for our extras and turn to leave when I notice Helena on the steps outside chatting to Celia, a librarian friend of my old boss Naomi. Not seen her for ages, Naomi either, come to think – though I’m not particularly sorry. I put my purse away, pick up my stuff and go out to join them. As I approach, I notice the two of them look very serious.
Celia gives me a wave and shoves her glasses up her nose. ‘Hi, Sam. Just telling your girl here about poor Alison.’
‘Poor Alison?’
‘God, it’s awful, Mum.’ Helena says grimacing. ‘I can’t pretend to like her, but nobody deserves that.’
‘Deserves what?’ A seed of ice plants itself in my chest and it’s growing roots and branches.
Celia says, ‘She’d started walking the cliff paths, trying to get fit apparently. Anyway, last week she was on her way back, when she heard someone on the path behind her. She turned round and saw a jogger, but didn’t think much of it until this jogger ran past and elbowed her off the bloody cliff!’ Celia’s voice goes up a few octaves – shrill, grating.
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. My mouth drops open and I look from Celia to Helena and back. Eventually out of my mouth croaks, ‘Oh my God. Is she hurt badly?’
Celia snorts. ‘Hurt? It’s a wonder she isn’t dead. Lucky for her a strip of mossy grassland jutted out from the cliff about twenty feet down. She landed on that, there were some big stones on it, but at least she didn’t hit the jagged rocks on the beach. If she had, that would have been the end.’
Helena continues. ‘She was taken by air ambulance to the Royal Cornwall, been in a coma, but she’s out of it now. They put her in one for a bit because of her head injuries. She’s got severe bruising, a broken collarbone and a fractured hip. But she’s alive. Tough as old boots, eh?’ She winks at Celia.
‘Good job,’ Celia says then nods at the hotel. ‘Anyway, must get in there for my treatment. I’m having my massage. And after the day I’ve had I–’
‘Is she okay – you know, mentally – with the head injury?’ I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
‘Seems to be,’ Celia says. ‘She was able to tell the police that she thinks it was a man, tallish, but not the detail because it was a dull day and coming up dusk.’
‘Didn’t she see his face?’ Helena asks.
‘No. She thinks it was a man, but she can’t be sure. They had a hoodie drawn tight round their face and were looking down.’ Celia looks up to the left. ‘Dark green, I think she said it was, and black jeans. Anyway, see you soon – take care.’
Helena slips her arm through mine and we walk to the car. She’s chatting about how awful it all is, but I can’t cope. I want to scream and keep screaming until I wake myself up. Because this has to be some terrible nightmare, doesn’t it?
25
Alison’s a jammy bitch. Anybody else would have plummeted quietly to their death but no. Not her. She deserved to die almost as much as Penny, but she miraculously survived. How does she get off trying to break up a beautiful and loving relationship? A relationship she could never aspire to because she’s a conniving spiteful little troll. The answer is obvious. She was jealous and thought she could take what was rightfully someone else’s. When she found she couldn’t, she set out to try to destroy it. Alison comes across as a larger-than-life character, a femme fatale gathering men like moths to a flame. But she’s just a sad bitch whose husband left her for someone else. Is there any wonder?
God it felt so good, the power-surge coursing through my veins when I pushed her over the edge. I heard her gasp in shock as she tried to suck air and failed. Then I watched her flailing arms, her body bouncing off the side of the cliff and heard the satisfying thud when she hit the ledge way below. Okay, she should have landed on the jagged rocks, but even though she didn’t, you’d think the fall would have killed her. She must have the luck of the devil. Seems like she didn’t recognise me though, which is a lifesaver. If she had, there’d be some very difficult questions to answer, particularly given it’s not so long since Penny’s sad demise.
Let’s hope Alison doesn’t start to remember bits that she shouldn’t. Because if she does, I’ll have to make sure I finish what I started. Nothing will stand in the way of my happiness. I’ve suffered too long, it’s time for some smooth waters on this choppy ocean.
I think I’ll pop along and visit poor Alison soon… see how the land lies.
26
Dan’s fresh from the shower and asks if we might go out for dinner as he fancies that new restaurant in town. I can’t face eating; I can hardly breathe after what Celia told me this afternoon. I’ve only just mustered courage to come home – been walking on the beach mulling everything over and over in my head. I can’t let go of the fact that Dan was jealous as hell about Harry. Then a man in a dark green hoodie and black jeans was in the pub talking to Harry that night. Afterwards, Harry goes all weird and leaves without a word to me in the early hours. Next, Alison tells me she had a thing with Dan. Dan’s furious – and a few weeks later she’s pushed off a cliff by a man in a dark green hoodie and black jeans. Dan has to be involved somehow. Has to be.
He’s standing there now, looking like butter wouldn’t melt and good enough to eat. A towel round his waist, his hair damp, love in his eyes. I say, ‘No, I don’t want to go out, Dan. I’ve had a hell of a shock this afternoon.’ I sit down at the kitchen table, put my head in my hands.
I hear the opposite chair scrape out across the floor tiles and his hands on mine gently removing them. Dan lifts my chin, looks into my eyes, his face a mask of concern. ‘Tell me, love, what’s happened?’
‘A friend of Naomi’s was at the spa, she told us that Alison was pushed off the cliff path by a man in a dark green hoodie and black jeans.’ My eyes never leave his, they slide away. His cheeks redden, and he lets go of my chin, rubs his face, shakes his head.
‘Oh my God. That’s awful, is she hurt?’
‘Yes, but not dead, luckily. Ought to have been by all accounts.’ My voice is calm, though my insides are anything but. He’s rubbing his face again, pinching the bridge of his nose.
‘Is she in hospital?’
‘Yeah. They put her in a coma because of her head injuries but seems like she’s okay now. Must be, to be able to say the a
ttacker wore a dark green hoodie.’ My voice sounds less calm and I clench my jaw, wait for his response.
‘Must be. Who would have done something like that?’ Dan stands up, walks to the sink and looks out of the window at the night sky, except the light’s on and I can see his reflection in the pane. He’s biting his lip.
I thump the table and he spins round, a frown drawing his dark brows together. ‘Aren’t you listening? He wore a dark green hoodie, Dan.’
‘So what? Why are you yelling?’ He sticks his neck out and flings his arms back.
‘So what! The guy who spoke to Harry in the pub that night wore a dark green hoodie, you remember Harry. He’s the one who fancied me, but after that night buggered off as if the dogs were after him. And Alison. She’s the one you fucked and warned never to tell me or she’d be sorry. After she did tell me, you were beside yourself with fury. Remember?’ I stand up quickly and my chair falls backwards with a clatter. ‘Come on – you must remember her, Dan!’
He shoots me a bewildered look and scrubs his hair with his knuckles. ‘You’re saying I had something to do with Alison?’
I thrust my neck out too. ‘Well, did you?’
‘Fuck no!’ His cheeks are aflame, and his eyes are angry but shifty at the same time. He shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose again. ‘How could you even think such a thing?’ Dan turns round, marches into the living room.
I follow him, and he flops down heavily on the sofa. ‘How could I think such a thing? It’s a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’
His hands cover his face and he says, through his fingers, ‘No. No I don’t.’ He places his hands on his knees and glares at me. ‘I told you I had nothing to do with Harry, and I certainly had nothing to do with Alison.’
‘You don’t think that a man wearing the same clothes at these two incidents is a coincidence?’ As I’m saying it, I do wonder if I’ve jumped the gun a bit. Dan looks destroyed. But his body language is guilt personified. Especially the pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that the night I found him and Penny coming out of his room when I was sixteen, and he’d the audacity to say it wasn’t what it looked like.
‘I expect there are thousands of men around wearing dark green bloody hoodies! And to be honest, Sam, if you think I’m capable of attempted murder I don’t know where we go from here.’ Dan gets up and goes back to the kitchen. I hear the fridge door slam and the crack of a ring pull. I follow him in and watch him chug down half a can of lager without coming up for air.
Taking a wine glass from the cupboard, I wonder where to go next with this as I pour myself a generous glug of Merlot. He’s rattled. More than is normal for an innocent man, I think. There’s the body language, the leaving the room I’m in all the time to avoid eye contact, the indignant anger. But what if I’m wrong? How would I feel if he had accused me of these things on relatively flimsy evidence? Then a thought occurs. ‘I can see why you’re upset, but the day I told you I knew about you and Alison, you said you were going round there to have it out with her. You were furious, Dan.’ I take a sip of wine and turn to face him.
He gives me a withering look and takes another drink, sets the can on the side. ‘Yes, I was, because she’s a spiteful bitch and said what she said was to deliberately cause trouble. But I wouldn’t have bleedin’ harmed her – just given her a piece of my mind.’
‘Right,’ I respond lamely, pick my chair from the floor and sit on it. I honestly don’t know what to think. Perhaps it wasn’t him in person, did he hire someone? Helena had suggested that when I first saw Hoodie Man that night. A local thug? That would explain why he’s guilty. But then that’s as good as doing it himself. Could he do something so vile – actually push a woman over a cliff? Also, Helena didn’t put two and two together like me yesterday, did she? But then I don’t think I mentioned the colour of Hoodie Man’s clothes to her at the time – just said it was a guy in a hoodie.
‘What’s going through your mind?’ Dan asks quietly and finishes his can. ‘Do you still think it was me?’
‘I don’t know. I feel sick, scared, worried, upset that I accused you. I’d never forgive myself if I hadn’t asked though. I really hope you wouldn’t be capable, but it just seems such a big co–’
‘Coincidence. Yes, you said.’ Dan stares at the wall behind me for a while, a far-away look in his eye. ‘Anyway, while your jury’s out I’m going to get dressed.’
I watch him walk away and then close my eyes, try to think straight. My jury, if pushed, would have to say there’s reasonable doubt. I know he’s lying about something, whether it’s harming her himself, or hiring a thug, or something else, I don’t know. I love him, but don’t trust him though. Not enough. I can’t afford to be blinded by love, not again. My sixteen-year-old self won’t allow it. I owe it to myself, my family, to get this right. To be sure. But I need more evidence. I know where to look, but getting it will be very tricky. Very bloody tricky indeed.
By the time he’s dressed and back in the kitchen with me, I’ve fleshed out a plan of sorts. This will involve me first and foremost being nice to him, not too nice, or he’ll be suspicious, but apologetic and as normal as I can make myself. I get a homemade pizza out of the freezer and say, ‘Shall we have this with a salad and a few chips?’
Dan raises his eyebrows. ‘Back to normal, just like that?’
I sigh and open my arms for a hug. ‘I’m sorry, love. It just seemed very odd – the whole thing. I know you wouldn’t go to those lengths… Maybe I’m just stressed with what she told me, your reaction to her, the way the family’s behaving and the wedding nearly on us.’
He walks into my arms, nuzzles my neck. ‘You hurt me, Sam. I get what you’re saying, but to even think for one minute I’d be low enough to–’
‘I know, I know.’ I kiss him gently on the lips. ‘Please, let’s leave it now. Do you forgive me?’
His jaw clenches a few times and then I get a fleeting smile. ‘I will, but give me time. I’m still smarting a bit. Let’s have that pizza and sit in front of some mind-numbing TV. I’m all talked out tonight.’
‘Okay.’ I follow him into the living room, point the remote, and EastEnders comes on.
‘Not that mind-numbing.’ Dan takes the remote and sits on the sofa, flicking through the channels. He seems very quick to forget it all and get on with his evening. An innocent man would be still fuming, wouldn’t he?
I mentally get a few sentences organised in my head and take a deep breath. ‘I might go up to Taunton tomorrow to see Auntie Kath. I haven’t seen her since Adam’s funeral and she keeps asking if she can pop in and see us.’
Dan frowns at me. ‘Your mum’s sister? Won’t you see her at the wedding?’
‘Yes, but she’s got this new man and I think she’s having a few problems with him. We talk on the phone but it’s not as good as face-to-face.’
‘I don’t want you getting mixed up in any bloody domestic. You don’t know what he’s like.’
‘Don’t be daft. He’s okay, just boring – set in his ways. Anyway, I’ll only be gone overnight. I’m her favourite niece and she says I remind her of Mum, bless her.’ I feel like I’m asking my dad if I can stay out late, for God’s sake. Who does he think he is? I can’t say that though, obviously. I so wish my parents were still here. I miss them every day.
‘I could drive you. We could have a few days break – go to a nice hotel or spa?’
No we bloody couldn’t. ‘Honestly, I’d rather go on my own… It might help to have time apart after today. Just to clear the air, you know?’
A sulk sheathes him like a second skin. His mouth turns down at the corners like a sad clown’s and he heaves a sigh. ‘Whatever you like.’
I slide on the sofa next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. ‘Come on, Dan. You know I love you and I’m sorry. We’re good – I just want to see Kath.’
‘Yeah, okay. How do you know she’s free though at such short notice?’
‘I wa
s speaking to her yesterday and she’s taken a week off to tidy her jungle of a garden, as she calls it. I’ll ring her while the pizza’s in to confirm.’ I get up and he grabs my wrist as I go past.
‘Get me another lager will you, love, before you ring her.’ Dan stares at a programme about cars, puts his feet up on the coffee table. ‘Oh and a few peanuts, I’m starving.’
‘Yes, okay.’ I smile, but inside I’m seething. He’s milking me being the bad guy here. Much as I’d like to, I can’t tell him to get it himself, or shove it where the sun don’t shine.
Switching off the ignition, I stare at a bay windowed 1930s house at the end of the tree-lined cul-de-sac. There’s a calico cat in the front garden and neat and tidy shrubs line the path up to the red front door. My phone says two minutes before five and I cross my fingers that I won’t have to wait too long. My fingers come up to my mouth and I have to sit on my hands to prevent me from worrying my nails again. No surprise really with the stress of the journey and all the deception.
Auntie Kath was very suspicious and worried when I phoned her from the services on the drive up. I apologised, said I wouldn’t be coming after all like I’d arranged last night, but if by any chance – albeit unlikely – Dan contacted her, she must say I was there. If he wanted to speak to me, she must say that I’d get back to him as I was in the shower, at the shop, anywhere. I couldn’t tell her why, but she must trust me and not worry. She agreed but didn’t like it. Thinking about her reaction now, my heart sinks. I’m using her, drawing her into my world of mistrust and suspicion. And she was so looking forward to seeing me.
Just as I’m wondering whether to call the whole thing off – leave this place and go back to Taunton – a blue Honda comes past me and swings into the drive of the bay windowed house. The driver’s door opens, and the calico cat runs to the man getting out. An envelope folder and a wedge of exercise books under his arm, he scoops the cat up and steps to the front door, key in hand. While he’s trying to balance the cat, books and the folder and struggling to open the door, I leave my car and hurry along the road, and walk up the drive behind him.
