She was sitting on her desk, double-checking her homework against that of one of the other girls and rubbing her temples to make the pounding in her forehead subside, when Camille’s voice commanded her attention, along with that of everyone else in the immediate vicinity.
‘I heard you and James broke up.’
Evie cringed. She’d thought she’d got away without their relationship being public knowledge – and by extension their break-up a secret – but one look at Camille’s smug face told her otherwise. She attempted a ‘fuck you’ expression, unsure if her face was capable of anything but hungover today.
‘Ears that size I’d be surprised if there was much you didn’t hear.’
Camille gave a pinched smile. ‘There’s no need for that. I just came to say thank you.’
‘Thank you?’
‘Yes,’ Camille was practically purring and Evie would have kicked her in the face, if she thought she could lift her foot. ‘For a wonderful weekend. James had a lot of fun getting over you.’
Before Evie had a chance to respond, and as if she had timed it to the second, the bell rang and Camille was gone.
36
Rebecca
‘Since you’ve been goooone,’ I wail along with the radio, tossing dirty pants and socks into an oversized IKEA bag. Jeans that are at least a size too big go into a bin bag, along with drab black hoodies and baggy T-shirts. I’ve been through my entire wardrobe throwing out everything that doesn’t fit, either my body or my mind – now I’m tackling my growing washing pile. Anything to try and avoid thinking about what happened at Lucy’s meal, or the dreams that have plagued me ever since.
I haven’t been to see Richard in days, ever since he found out about Evie’s pregnancy. It’s the coward’s way out – he probably needs me more than ever – but I don’t know what to say, and I can’t afford for what I know to show on my face. Damn Evie for putting me in this position. I’ve decided that time and space is what Richard needs at the moment. Martin might be right, though obviously I’d never tell him that – with me around so constantly Richard can’t begin to move on. So I’m taking a break from looking after him and so far I’ve spent my days working, spring-cleaning my house, and clearing out my head. I feel like a caterpillar casting a chrysalis around—
My thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell – probably the postman with the dresses I ordered in my middle-of-the-night shopping spree. Except it’s not the postman, it’s Richard.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘You could attempt to look pleased to see me,’ he mutters. ‘At least I’m not waking you at an unholy hour and forcing you into the shower.’
‘Do you mind?’ I hissed, stepping aside and letting him walk past. ‘If my neighbours hear you say something like that I’ll be the talk of the complex.’
‘Do you even know what your neighbours look like?’
‘Yes,’ I scowled. ‘That one across the hall has brown hair and smells of citrus, and freaky downstairs has a nose ring. Actually.’
‘Septum.’
‘Gesundheit.’
‘No,’ Richard grins. ‘It’s a septum ring.’
I shake my head irritably.
‘Do you have a point? What are you doing here? Is there news?’
‘Nope,’ Richard holds up his khakis and I almost see the old twinkle in his eyes. ‘I came to see if you wanted to go for a picnic.’
‘A picnic?’ I don’t try and hide my surprise. Is he drunk again? ‘You made a picnic?’
‘Well, I brought pre-mades and crisps,’ he admits. ‘It’s a veritable buffet – you want in or not?’
‘Sure,’ I shrug. ‘Why not? Where are we going?’
Richard smiles. ‘It’s a surprise.’
It takes me half an hour of rolling my eyes at Heart FM to realise I’ve been had.
‘Richard?’ I ask, still staring out of the window.
‘Hmmmm?’
‘When were you going to tell me we were going to Lulworth?’
I sense him stiffen.
‘What makes you think that?’ he asks in the worst fake-casual voice I’ve heard anyone use.
‘Is this a kidnapping?’ I demand. ‘Because unless you are kidnapping me – and by the way, even if my family noticed, they can’t afford the ransom – then you need to tell me why we are driving to Lulworth.’
‘There’s something I wanted to check, that’s all. You don’t have to make it sound so sinister.’
Oh yes, I think. Nothing sinister about going for a picnic where your wife threw herself off a cliff. But I stay silent.
We make some small talk on the journey but as we get nearer to the place we both last saw Evie alive an uncomfortable silence descends. When we get to the hotel I expect Richard to park up, but he carries on as far as the road will take us. When he finally stops I look at him expectantly and he takes a deep breath.
‘I need you to go out there,’ he says, motioning to the clifftop ahead. ‘There’s somewhere else I need to go.’
‘You’re coming back for me though, right?’ I half joke.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I won’t be long.’
37
Evie
James’ betrayal had been like a knife through her back but, although sharp, it wasn’t fatal. Sometimes it would hit her, if she were to accidentally wander past somewhere they had visited together, or see a couple who looked like them holding hands, her body leaning into his as they walked, so in love that they fed from each other’s touch. A young mother out for a stroll with her baby wrapped to her chest. Yes, those things would hurt, but the pain wasn’t as real, as raw as those moments when she could smell him in the air, with no idea of where the scent had come from – was he there? Had he come to apologise, explain? – or those times she would actually hear his laugh in a crowded café, the instant flush of anticipation followed by crushing disappointment when it turned out not to be him at all.
But she was young, and in her youth had a way of minimising the pain, wrapping it up tightly in a ball and burying it deep in the pit of her stomach while on the outside she became the life and soul of every party. She laughed a little louder, drank a little more, pushed boundaries and broke school rules.
Life in the upper sixth was more relaxed but Evie seemed determined to prove that she was okay, and to do that she must be having a good time. Her schoolwork began to suffer – who could do algebra when there was so much pounding in their head? – and the school’s calls to her parents became more frequent and more serious. When she got wind of her father’s imminent arrival she convinced Jessica and Harriet to take the ferry to France for the weekend, turning off her phone to avoid an angry barrage of calls and messages. And ever present was the constant knowledge that the malignant tumour of grief which remained lodged somewhere inside her might flare up at any given moment, rendering her utterly heartbroken where seconds before she had been pain free.
She sensed that something was wrong the minute she arrived back in the boarding hall. The way people stopped to look at her, the sympathetic glances they shot her way. What had happened? Had there been an accident? She got her answer the minute she walked into her dormitory.
‘Evelyn,’ her father’s voice was calm, but even so she could tell he was furious. Had he been here all weekend?
‘Papa!’ Evie threw herself at his chest, hugging him tightly. ‘It’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
‘Where have you been?’ he asked, extracting himself from her grip and walking around her bed. ‘I’ve been here all weekend, waiting for you.’
‘But we had that trip to Paris, don’t you remember?’ She waited to see if the boldness of her lie had worked.
‘No, I don’t,’ he replied evenly. His face was a mask, fixed and unreadable. ‘And yet I must have known you were going, because I signed the release forms.’
Evie gave a feeble smile. ‘Well, you are so busy. You’re bound to forget things sometimes
. But you’re here now. Would you like me to show you around? Wait – you didn’t sleep in here, did you?’
‘I tried, but apparently it’s against school policy to let men sleep in teenage girls’ dormitories. I’ve been staying at the bed and breakfast in the village. And no, I think we are fine here. Tell me, Evelyn – what am I paying thousands of pounds for this place for?’
‘So I can have the best education money can buy,’ Evie responded in a monotone voice. She knew what was coming next – she’d heard this speech before.
‘And do I enjoy wasting money?’
‘No, sir.’
‘So tell me why it is that I am receiving letter after letter from this very school to tell me that your behaviour is falling well below the standard expected of Haverton Academy students? And why it is that your grades have slipped from exceptional to below average?’
The last two words came out like they had a bad taste to them.
‘Perhaps the work is too hard. Perhaps I’m not the daughter you thought I was. Maybe I’m just not the perfect princess you expected me to be. After all, it’s not exactly the done thing to get knocked up at Haverton Academy either, is it? Not in the school handbook, breastfeeding and antenatal classes?’
Dominic’s face flushed bright pink with fury. ‘Evelyn Rousseau, you keep your voice down and change your tone. I did not raise my daughter to speak to me—’
‘Raise your daughter?’ Evelyn let out a bark of laughter. ‘You raised me, did you? Not Yasmin, and Phillip, and a whole cast of staff, while you spend evenings rotating between the office and some whore’s bed and Mother drinks herself into an early grave because you’ve made her feel like that’s all she’s worthy of?’
‘Your mother is ill, Evelyn, and I work all hours God sends so you can have your private education and the privilege of acting like such a spoilt ungrateful brat! You know nothing of adult life. You think that marriage is easy? You think that your mother is blameless? You have no idea!’
Evie couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen her father more furious. He looked like he wanted to burst into tears and slap her in the face all at once.
‘Papa, I’m sorry—’
Dominic shook his head. ‘Don’t give me your apologies. You will get your things together and I will arrange for you to come back to finish your final exams in a few weeks. I want you where I can see you, before you get yourself expelled entirely.’
38
Rebecca
We haven’t been back here since the day after the wedding and as I stand at the clifftop I have a vision of looking over and seeing her floating there, a white doll in the sea, surrounded by chiffon. Bile rises, burning my throat and pinpricks of light dance in front of my eyes. If you faint you will fall, a voice tells me. Then you can be together again. I push down the thought and blink a couple of times to clear my head.
On the cliff the air is still warm but the light is fading away to dusk. Richard hadn’t picked me up until three, which I’d thought was late for an impromptu picnic, but I’m guessing now that he wants it to be the same as when Evie was up here – just half an hour to go. The silence is disquieting; there’s no one out walking tonight and the hotel can barely be seen at the bottom of the slope. If I didn’t know there were hundreds of people eating dinner at the bottom of the hill I could well believe that I was completely alone.
I sit on the grass and wait as the light fades more rapidly, cursing Richard and whatever stupid plan has led him out here. How long does he want me to wait? He said he wouldn’t just leave me here, he’ll get here, but now I’m starting to doubt that he’s ever coming back. I pull out my phone to call him and it vibrates in my hand with a text message.
Go to the edge.
I oblige, hoping he’s not going to want me to jump off just to see if I survive. I nearly smile at my own joke until I realise how inappropriate it is. I am contemplating peering over the edge to see exactly how far down it is when I hear the voice.
‘Careful, it’s not safe, you know.’ The voice is familiar, the deep intensity. I resist the urge to groan as I turn to see Thomas looking out over the sea.
‘Did you follow us here?’
His appearance is too convenient to be a coincidence. Did Richard tell him we were coming? Is he following us? That day in the coffee shop he’d admitted to coming to Kensington to ask me some questions, but how had he known where to find me? And now here he is again, closer to his hometown this time, but unless he can see these cliffs from his house it would be impossible for him to know we were here.
He avoids my gaze and exercises his right to remain silent. Fine, have it your way. This time you’re getting nothing from me.
‘I’m not planning to jump, if that’s what you think.’
‘No, you’re too clever for that,’ he replies. ‘Your friend, he’s the one you need to look out for.’
‘Richard? He’s upset but I can’t see him . . .’ I stop, think about what I’m saying. I don’t actually know if he’s upset enough to do something stupid. Is he planning to join Evie down there? Am I his witness?
‘Did you tell him about what I told you at the coffee shop?’
He means about the affair. Should I have told Richard? Is that what an innocent person would do?
‘No,’ I reply. ‘He’d want to know what proof you had, and you wouldn’t tell me, remember? I’m not just going to drop that bomb on him without anything to back it up.’ I pause. ‘Are you going to tell him?’
Thomas looks out across the navy sea. ‘I was waiting to see if he told me.’
‘He doesn’t know!’ I practically shout. ‘I’m telling you, he’s not who you think he is. He’s not some master criminal, he’s a grieving husband. If he knew about Evie and James he wouldn’t be keeping it from you.’
Thomas looks triumphant and I can’t for the life of me think why until . . . oh shit. He hadn’t mentioned any names.
‘So you did know.’
‘Not until you told me at the café,’ I try not to sound like I’m backpedalling furiously. ‘But of course I thought about it afterwards. He’s the only person I’ve heard her mention recently. So I assumed . . .’ I close my mouth tightly but the damage has been done.
‘Visibility is bad between there and here,’ he changes the subject again, points across the cliffs to where I can just about make out a figure on the other side. ‘Ask your friend. That’s where he is now, checking how much the witnesses could see. Maybe he’s checking whether he could be identified from that distance.’
‘He wasn’t up here. I told you, he was with me.’
‘Perhaps,’ Thomas says. ‘Or maybe you’re both lying. When he gets back here can you tell him we’d like to see Evie’s passport, please?’
The accusation of being a liar and yet another change of subject throws me.
‘What do you need her passport for?’
‘Just a formality,’ he gives me a curious look. ‘Is there a problem with that?’
‘No,’ I lie. I’m getting quite adept at it now. ‘I’ll have him bring it in as soon as he can.’
When Richard arrives at the clifftop Thomas is gone, as completely as if he’d never been here. If I was the type of person to question my sanity I’d wonder now if I’d seen him at all or if I’d imagined the whole conversation. The warm air has chilled and as Richard walks over I realise I’m shaking, although how much is from the cold and how much is from the conversation I’ve just had with Thomas I’m not sure. Does Richard know that Evie was having an affair? If the police know, do I tell him? If he doesn’t already know it will break his heart – can I bear to put him through any more pain?
Does he already know?
‘Thanks for coming, sorry I took so long,’ he says as he jogs over to me. ‘I wanted to go over to the other side, see what they saw.’
‘I know,’ I say, watching his face. ‘I saw you.’
‘Could you tell it was me?’
‘No. Could you see me?’
>
‘Some of the time. Not very well though, although I suppose Evie was wearing a long white dress which would have made her more noticeable.’
‘Yes, and she would have been closer to the edge. Thomas said—’
‘Detective Thomas? The police officer?’
‘Yes,’ I clock the confusion on his face. ‘Are you saying you didn’t see him?’
‘No,’ Richard shakes his head. He’s looking at the spot where I had been standing as I spoke to the police officer.
‘He said they want to see her passport,’ I tell him. ‘Just a formality.’
I’m not sure he’s heard me but after a few seconds he says, ‘Yeah, right, I’m not sure where it is though. I’ll find it.’
We stand in silence, me staring out to sea and Richard still looking at the grass beyond. Eventually he points.
‘Look, the grass slopes that way. If you were blocking him he would have been easy to miss – especially given how dark it was.’
‘But if he could stay out of sight . . .’
Richard picks up on my train of thought immediately. ‘. . . Then so could the person Evie was arguing with.’
39
Evie
Evie shoved the money into the hands of the taxi driver, not bothering to count how much was there. The alcohol buzz was warm in her chest and her head swam as she climbed out of the car and looked up at the house blanketed in darkness before her. As the taxi pulled away she realised there was no going back now. She had come this far and she wasn’t leaving without speaking to James.
It had been six weeks since her father had told him about the baby, five since there was no baby and a week since her father had arrived at school to drag her home, and she had been spiralling dangerously, her life in freefall ever since. She had to do something, she had to speak to someone, and the only person she wanted to be near was the only boy she had ever loved. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t loved her back, or that his callous words had been the reason for her drastic actions, she needed him.
The Night She Died Page 12
