Poison Heart

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Poison Heart Page 26

by S. B. Hayes


  ‘No,’ she answered petulantly. ‘I’m fed up of always waiting for tomorrow. From this moment on I’m going to do whatever I want when I want. And the lake will never be this magical again.’

  For one crazy minute I agreed with her. It looked so inviting in the moonlight, and she seemed completely free. I’d been dull and sensible for so long and she was beckoning to me.

  ‘Katy, think of all the things we never did together. She stole everything from us. You know you should be with me. You have to be with me.’

  I warily put one foot on to the ice and knew straight away it wasn’t that thick. I could sense movement, an ominous creak, and it could have been my imagination but I could feel the water churning beneath. It was incredible that Genevieve had made it so far towards the centre.

  ‘Don’t go any further,’ I called. ‘I’m coming closer, but edge your way backwards and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.’

  ‘I’ve just had a great idea,’ she cried, ignoring my warning. ‘You can change your name … like I did.’

  I moved a few centimetres forward, reluctant to leave the safety of the shallows. ‘Why would I change my name?’

  ‘Because you’re not who you thought you were. Katy is dead, and Hope hasn’t existed for over sixteen years.’

  Another few centimetres and I was physically shaking with fear. ‘But I still feel like Katy.’

  ‘Forget Katy. You can be anyone you want to be.’

  It was time for the question I’d been longing to ask her since the day she walked into my life. ‘Who is Genevieve Paradis?’

  ‘She doesn’t exist!’ she almost screamed with elation. ‘I got her out of a book. When I read that name I knew I wanted to be her. I felt like her. You can be anyone you want to be … Don’t let them tell you otherwise.’

  I was about three metres from the bank now and this felt surreal: the moon shining on the frozen ice, the shadowy trees reaching their twisted black branches towards us, the ghostly figure of Genevieve gliding on ice and her voice resounding in the silence. The only way I had the courage to move was to tell myself this wasn’t real. I was still Katy Rivers, the former Girl Guide, who knew every safety precaution in the book and would never, ever walk out on to a frozen lake.

  A sudden ugly noise in the eerie stillness was like a whip cracking.

  ‘Genevieve,’ I warned, ‘the ice is breaking up. Lie down and try to spread your weight.’

  I wasn’t even sure if this was the right advice, but I dredged it from the dark recesses of my memory.

  ‘Meet you halfway,’ Genevieve shouted. ‘I’ve wanted to be with you so much. All my life I searched for you. We’re different from other people, Katy, and you owe me this.’

  I searched for signs of panic on her face but there weren’t any. ‘I missed you as well,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘I just didn’t know it.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid. It isn’t the end for us … I know that for sure.’

  And now there was another, familiar voice calling, but I didn’t dare turn around.

  ‘Move back, Katy. Slowly slide your feet back. You haven’t far to go.’

  I didn’t even hesitate but answered with certainty: ‘No, I can’t leave her.’

  They were the last words I spoke before Genevieve slipped under the ice with one final brutal crack, like a fault opening up during an earthquake. I hesitated for only seconds, ignoring the frantic cries in the background. I was still on my feet. It was a simple choice – retreat to solid ground while I still could, or try to save Genevieve.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the cold. It was raw, clean, sharp and cut through me in all its cruelty. It didn’t just take away my breath, it also closed down each nerve and every function. My clothes were heavy and sodden, lead weights dragging me under. I thought of the tale of the old man of the sea who tricks travellers into taking him across the river. They agree to carry him, but he wraps his legs around them like a vice and grows heavier and heavier until they drown. I probably only struggled for a minute. I was never a strong swimmer and neither was Genevieve. Giving up felt like a relief.

  The water was surprisingly clear of weeds and debris and it was easy to find Genevieve, with her hair streaming around her head like a mermaid’s. She was waiting for me, as she’d always been, and I put my arms around her lifeless neck. I’d thought it would be hard to die but it felt surprisingly easy; the light beckoned, far away in the distance but drawing me closer. I was moving gratefully towards it, guided by some unseen hand, when the calm of the water was disturbed. A hand grabbed me. I was pulled upwards, ripped from the lake in a cruel rebirth, and dragged across the ice. The distance felt immense and I kept expecting to hear that sickening crack again. Everything I wanted to escape from was still there on that bank – cold, uncertainty, hurt, loss and pain. I retched and spluttered, convinced that my lungs had burst. I was rolled on to my side and coughed up water.

  Rebecca hesitated and I sensed what she intended to do next. My hand gripped her arm tightly. ‘You can’t go back in there.’ There was determination in her face, and as she began to pull away from me it took all my strength to restrain her. ‘She’s already gone … it’s useless.’

  ‘I have to try, Katy. I need to do this.’

  I shook my head, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. ‘Don’t risk your own life. Stay with me … Mum.’

  As the final word left my lips she seemed to crumple in my arms and we clutched each other for support. I don’t think I’ve ever held on to anyone so tightly in my whole life.

  After another few minutes had passed there wasn’t even a ripple on the water; it was as if nothing had ever disturbed its tranquillity. I stared into its shining depths. There was something floating on the surface close to the bank, a piece of green glass, in the darkness almost the same colour as the lake. It drifted idly for a few moments and then sank without a trace.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘“A rose … by any other name would smell as sweet”.’

  Luke dangled his arms along the back of the wooden bench and waited for my reaction.

  ‘Romeo and Juliet?’

  He gave me a thumbs-up sign.

  ‘I’m not hung up on my name,’ I answered, self-consciously fiddling with my earring. ‘I still feel like Katy Rivers. Anyway … do I really look like a Hope?’

  He shook his head. ‘A girl called Hope would act demure and play the violin or the harp.’

  ‘I’m tone deaf.’

  Luke squinted in the December sunshine. ‘You were really brave today. I’m proud of you.’

  I didn’t answer because tears were still close to the surface and I’d finished with crying. Luke handed me my sunglasses and I realized how awful my eyes must look. I changed position, the starched black suit uncomfortable, but I wasn’t in a hurry to leave St Jude’s. Lots of people found graveyards morbid, but I felt quite comfortable among the dead. There were more visitors here than I’d expected, but it was almost Christmas and special wreaths made of holly and miniature fir trees adorned many graves.

  ‘It’s right they should be buried together,’ I said, watching two sparrows fighting over a piece of bread.

  Luke was making embarrassed humming noises beside me. I knew there was something on his mind and if I waited long enough he would tell me.

  ‘I know it’s not my place, Kat, but maybe you should talk to someone.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Everything … You think it’s all over, but stuff like that might … er … resurface later on and cause you problems.’

  I turned towards him, aghast. ‘You think I need a shrink?’

  ‘Counsellor perhaps,’ he answered delicately.

  ‘It wasn’t what you think,’ I protested. ‘I was living a life that didn’t belong to me …’

  Luke blinked madly and loosened his collar. ‘You still wish you’d never met Genevieve?’

  ‘Not any more,’ I answered carefully. ‘In a strange way … she kind of
set me free.’

  He put one finger across his lips. ‘She tried to kill you, Kat. She saw you as her enemy, remember?’

  ‘She was her own worst enemy,’ I quietly pointed out. ‘But you were right about one thing … she was only flesh and blood.’

  Luke seemed confused by my sudden compassion. ‘Could you have saved her?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘From herself?’

  I considered for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. Genevieve was so obsessive. She hated me, tried to rub out my life and then, finally, wanted us to be together.’

  ‘Together forever,’ Luke added darkly.

  I gave a weak laugh. ‘Sometimes … I hear her calling my name.’

  ‘It still doesn’t make sense,’ he sighed.

  I tried to explain because it was important that Luke of all people understood.

  ‘When we set out that day … I think she’d known it would end badly and she was prepared for it.’

  Luke moved his head slightly as if he partly understood. ‘What about you, Kat? Where do you go from here?’

  I clasped my arms behind my head and gave a rueful smile. I had no answer to this.

  ‘You haven’t changed,’ Luke insisted.

  ‘I haven’t changed,’ I echoed, ‘but everything around me has.’

  His hand touched my shoulder. ‘You’re still the same inside, and you don’t need other people to tell you who you are.’

  ‘And … I can be whoever I want to be.’ A small shiver ran through me as I repeated Genevieve’s words. I bit my lip. ‘Genevieve told me something … right at the end. That we put on these different faces for the world and never show our true nature.’

  ‘What did she mean?’

  ‘I think she was trying to tell me that no one knows what they’re really capable of until they’re tested.’

  Luke slipped on his own sunglasses and grinned at me. ‘She could be right. Anyway, you’ll always have me. We make a good team, don’t we?’

  ‘Not exactly Starsky and Hutch,’ I laughed.

  ‘Rivers and Cassidy? Sounds like a couple of bank robbers.’

  Our eyes locked and I leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips, something I’d wanted to do again for ages. I thought how funny it was that we only seemed to kiss in graveyards. He smiled tenderly and wiped the last traces of tears from my cheek. Looking into Luke’s eyes felt like coming home and told me everything I needed to know about his feelings for me. For now we didn’t need to talk about what had changed between us; it was enough to be together.

  There was a woman standing in the graveyard, clutching a single rose. She had altered in the last week, her face thinner and her eyes bruised, but there was a look of peace that I hadn’t seen before. I took a few steps towards her until we met where the pathway forked. We weren’t flesh and blood, but she was the only person I would ever call mother. We walked in comfortable silence. It was still and oddly beautiful. The well-tended paths, the old and new graves which told of grief that was one unending cycle. Dying, crushed flowers were discarded in a metal bin close to fresh blooms still wet with tears. The dead would always be here with the living close by, and I was beginning to realize that the divide wasn’t as great as people thought. Luke was now by my side. He reached for my hand as we walked away.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A stupendously huge thank-you to everyone at Darley Anderson for their support, guidance and encouragement, especially the wonderful Madeleine Buston for her offer of representation. It came by email from a train travelling towards Dorchester on 2 April 2010. I was reeling with shock and elation then, and I still am now. Thank you for making my dreams come true.

  Another massive thank-you to everyone at Quercus, especially Roisin Heycock, a superb editor who taught me so much (particularly about happy endings) and Talya Baker, a fantastic project manager. I feel very privileged that Poison Heart was given a home at Quercus – when I saw the cover for the first time I was completely blown away.

  I’m also deeply grateful to my foreign publishers for the gift of translation and for taking my novel around the globe.

  To all my family and friends who’ve had to endure my attempts at becoming an author – I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t listened

  And finally to Princy, the stray cat who wormed her way into my home and my heart, thank you for the inspiration of your beautiful green eyes.

  * * *

  Read an exclusive interview with the author on the Quercus Blog.

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  EPILOGUE

 

 

 


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