Her Last Breath

by Tracy Buchanan

  ‘How the hell do I work this?’ Aiden asked, trying to get to grips with the spiraliser.

  ‘Here,’ Estelle said, placing a carrot into it and twirling the handle around.

  As orange spirals curled out of the end, Aiden’s eyes widened in wonder. ‘Wow. I need me one of these.’

  ‘They’re amazing, the vegetables are a great substitute for pasta and spaghetti.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I very much doubt that.’

  They both smiled. She realised he seemed more relaxed now. Had he got over his initial anger at what she’d told him about their daughter? She hoped so.

  ‘You’ll see!’ she said. ‘Here, have a go.’ She let Aiden take over, the smile on his face widening as he produced spiralised carrots and courgettes.

  Estelle scooped the carrot up and placed it in a bowl, then reached for some rice wine vinegar, splashing it in with some soy sauce and grated ginger. She then sprinkled in some sesame seeds and chopped cucumbers before lifting the bowl and shaking it about. As she placed the bowl down, she realised the room had gone quiet. She looked up to see Autumn, Max and Aiden watching her with wide smiles on their faces.

  ‘You’re a natural, sweetheart,’ Autumn said, with a look of pride.

  Estelle felt her cheeks flush. She’d heard it so many times – from Seb, from her publisher, from visitors to her YouTube channel and social media followers – but somehow, to hear it from Autumn felt extra special.

  ‘You won’t be so impressed if we don’t get this done in time,’ Estelle said with a wink, turning away so they couldn’t see the happy tears in her eyes. ‘Chop chop,’ she added, clapping her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry my darlings,’ Autumn said, pulling her apron off as she looked at the clock. ‘But I have a hair appointment so will have to leave you to it.’

  ‘And I have some work to do,’ Max said.

  ‘Slackers!’ Aiden declared.

  His parents smiled. ‘I’m sure we can trust the chef and her assistant to produce the finest party food,’ Autumn said. Then they left the kitchen.

  As they got back to work, Aiden continued watching her. ‘You really are talented,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, come on, it’s just salad,’ she replied, taking a quick photo of it for Instagram.

  ‘Exactly, just salad,’ he said, picking a forkful up and putting it in his mouth. ‘But it tastes amazing.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘You’ve really found your niche.’

  ‘So have you,’ she said. ‘I saw the way you were with the group earlier; they were hanging on your every word.’

  His brow creased. ‘Na, it’s not the same.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t love it, Stel. Not like you clearly love this.’

  ‘You loved singing, writing songs,’ Estelle said gently.

  ‘Yeah, well, those days are over.’

  ‘Why do they have to be? Why can’t you dig your guitar out?’

  ‘I’m not a kid any more. I have to pay the mortgage.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be your job, Aiden. It can be something you do in the evenings for fun. You have to try again, you can’t just give it up. You were so talented.’

  ‘Were talented, you’ve got that right. Not any more though.’

  ‘Nonsense, I bet you still are. How do you know you haven’t still got it if you don’t give it a go?’ She tilted her head, examining his face. ‘There’s only one way to find out and I’d love to hear you play.’

  His face hardened. ‘No. That’s the past.’

  Then he pulled off his apron and walked away.

  Estelle tried not to think about the sadness she’d seen in Aiden’s eyes as she walked around the party later, a huge tray of canapés in her hands. Around her, people laughed and drank, Autumn’s favourite rock music booming out of the speakers. The doors between the kitchen and dining room had been opened wide and all of Lillysands’ great and good were there, drinking wine, laughing uproariously. Amongst them, Autumn floated around in a long, sheer emerald dress, her blonde hair piled on top of her head. Estelle felt a burn of pride inside. It felt good to know she’d helped Autumn have a great party. For so many years, she’d felt guilty about the way she’d just walked out. Maybe, in some way, she was making up for it now. She’d never dreamed she’d be sharing another birthday with Autumn again and yet here she was. Not just that, she was playing a pivotal role in it, cooking all the food.

  All she needed now was to know Poppy was safe and sound, and she could live her life with a little less regret and guilt.

  Estelle placed the tray on a nearby table and headed to a quiet corner, quickly checking her phone for any updates on Poppy.

  But still, nothing.

  She felt disappointment and frustration thread through her. She was completely helpless.

  ‘My wife is such a beauty, isn’t she?’ a voice said. She looked up to see Max watching Autumn hugging one of the guests.

  ‘She is,’ Estelle replied.

  ‘Remember how people used to think you were her birth daughter?’ Max said. ‘Same curly hair. Same wicked smile and colourful clothes. She liked that, the idea of having a daughter.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Still does. The way you just stepped in with the food earlier.’ He smiled. ‘You’re a good girl, Stel.’

  Estelle felt herself blush at his emotion. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’

  ‘Cooked for fifty people? I don’t think so.’ He gestured to the bottles of champagne on the table. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you with some champagne? We brought it back from our trip to France last year and I can promise you it’s the best of the best.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Autumn said, appearing by his side. ‘Come on, darlin’, we won’t tell anyone.’ She held up a bottle of champagne and a glass.

  Estelle laughed. ‘You two will never give up, will you?’

  She’d been surprised when Max had served her with wine during that first dinner in the house all those years ago. ‘The kids drink all the time in France,’ he’d said, leaning back and putting his feet on the wall surrounding the terrace. ‘Does them no harm, they’re better behaved than British kids.’

  ‘Yes, drink up, little one,’ Aiden had said, blond hair flopping in his eyes as he put his feet on the terrace as well as if he was so much more grown-up than her instead of the mere six months that separated them. ‘Then you’ll end up just like Alice and I, bons petits enfants.’ Alice caught his eye and they shared a smile.

  If there was one thing her birth parents did, it was not let her drink and go near their drugs. ‘Don’t want you ending up like us, Estelle,’ her mother would say in more sober moments. So it was a surprise to be offered alcohol at just twelve by the Garlands. Before she’d even had a chance to say no, they had poured some wine into her glass. Alice had given her a look that said ‘I know, weird, right?’ Estelle had raised the glass to her mouth, not wanting to disappoint them. When she’d taken a sip, Max and Autumn had clapped, like it was something to be proud of. ‘That mouthful was worth ten pounds,’ Max had said as Autumn laughed. She found out later she’d been drinking wine from a five hundred pound bottle, brought out especially to celebrate her arrival. It had thrilled her, that thought. Made her feel important.

  But now things were different. She was a woman, she knew her own mind. ‘The one glass I had earlier is enough, thank you,’ she said.

  ‘But you’re a clean eater, aren’t bubbles good at cleaning?’ Autumn said as she poured some champagne into a glass. Estelle resisted the urge to tell Autumn, again, that it wasn’t about being ‘clean’. Instead, she watched the champagne fizz and pop, the gold bubbles reflecting the lights above.

  ‘Imagine these bubbles tickling your throat, the happy feel of it spreading to your head, making it swim, cleaning you good and proper inside.’ Autumn squeezed her hand and smiled.

  Estelle laughed again, shaking her head. ‘Nice try, Autumn, but water will do just fine.’ She clinked her glass of water against Autumn’s ch
ampagne glass and winked at her.

  ‘Right,’ Max said. ‘Time for a speech. Come on,’ he said, taking Autumn’s hand and leading her up to the front of the room.

  ‘Oh god,’ Autumn groaned. ‘A speech!’

  Max had always enjoyed making speeches at parties.

  ‘Okay everyone,’ Max said, going to the front of the room and clinking his glass as the music was turned down. ‘Believe it or not, I’m not going to bore you over the next hour with a speech.’

  ‘That’ll make a change!’ Peter shouted. Everyone laughed.

  ‘All that really needs to be said is can you believe that stunning woman over there is sixty?’ He gestured towards Autumn and she struck a pose. ‘From the moment I met you, all those years ago, after you crashed into my new Mercedes with your friend Becca, I knew you would cost me a fortune.’ Autumn narrowed her eyes at him. ‘But,’ Max continued, face going serious, ‘you’re worth every penny. The love of my life, my light in the darkness, everything I ever wished for.’ He lifted his glass up. ‘To my beautiful Autumn.’

  Everyone else raised their glasses too. ‘To Autumn!’ they declared.

  As they did, Estelle got a flashback to a party her parents had held in a local village hall for her mother’s twentieth. The sight of her father with his hand around her mother’s neck, pressing her up against the wall, glass shattered around them, the man he’d accused her of kissing sprawled on the floor with blood pouring from his nose. And in the distance, the sound of sirens.

  ‘Daddy, please don’t,’ Estelle had begged, pulling at his other arm.

  He’d looked down at her with hatred in his eyes. ‘Get off,’ he’d said, shoving her away. She’d stumbled into someone behind her, their lager spilling all over the pretty pink dress that her mother had found at the local Oxfam and she’d been so excited about wearing. Her father had laughed. ‘Look at you, all filthy, like your filthy whore of a mother.’

  ‘I’d also like to say a huge thank you to our Stel,’ Max said. Estelle blinked, the memory dissolving at the sound of Max mentioning her name. Everyone turned to look at her. ‘What would we have done without you, Stel? This beautiful talented girl saved the day today by cooking up a storm with these delicious canapés. She even had Aiden and I in frilly aprons to help out.’ Everyone laughed, then Max’s face grew contemplative again. ‘In all seriousness though, and I say this with complete sincerity, having Stel back here has been the best birthday present Autumn could ask for. Am I right, darling?’

  Max turned to Autumn and she nodded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Absolutely.’

  Estelle felt her cheeks grow hot. She smiled, trying not to cry herself. The people in the room parted so Autumn could walk to Estelle, put her arms around her and kiss her on the cheek. ‘It means everything that you’re here, darling,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Speaking of birthday presents …’ Max said. ‘Autumn is currently wearing one of mine right now.’

  Autumn fingered the diamond necklace around her neck, mouthing a thank you to Max.

  ‘But there’s just one more,’ Max said. ‘And this one is from Aiden, so I’ll pass you over, son.’

  Aiden walked into the room then … with his guitar in his hands. Estelle was shocked. He’d seemed so against playing again earlier.

  He looked so handsome in skinny grey jeans and a white shirt, his tanned face stubbled, his blond hair combed back.

  Autumn put her hand to her mouth. ‘He has his guitar,’ she whispered.

  Aiden peered at his mum. ‘This is for you, Mum. Happy birthday.’

  He looked down at his guitar, and a strand of hair fell in front of his eyes. Then he started strumming the strings, singing a song Estelle recognised from a time before everything went wrong in Lillysands. Nobody but Estelle knew he’d written the song for Alice, about a lost girl who was found.

  Estelle lost herself in his voice, just as she used to all those years before. It was deep and mesmerising, his face intense. It felt like the words were wrapping themselves around everyone in the room. And it took her right back to the cottage, to Alice, to the feel of Alice’s soft cheek on her shoulder as they listened to Aiden.

  By the time Aiden got to the last verse, Autumn was crying and Estelle had to take large gulps of her water to chase her own tears away. As the song came to a close, she looked up to see Aiden’s eyes were on her, a solitary tear gliding down his cheek.

  Then he walked from the room. Everyone applauded, raising surprised eyebrows at each other.

  Estelle instinctively went to follow him. But Autumn put her hand on her arm. ‘Leave him be. He needs time; that took a lot, getting his guitar out again. Go have fun, sweetie. Lots of people want to catch up with you! You’ve been carrying food around like a waitress all evening when I’ve been telling you not to. So, go,’ Autumn said, shooing Estelle away. ‘Have some fun.’

  So that was what Estelle tried to do over the next hour. But as much as she tried, she couldn’t allow herself to ‘enjoy’ this party, as Autumn had insisted she should. Not when she knew Poppy was still out there somewhere missing. There was nothing she could do about it for now, but she would keep her ears peeled for any gossip and her eyes open for anyone who seemed uncomfortable, even unhappy around her.

  But as she talked to people, all she felt was herself being enveloped in Lillysands’ warmth. They all seemed so proud of her.

  ‘Look how well our Stel’s done,’ a woman who owned a clothes boutique in town declared. ‘You must come in and have a look at our new stock; you could wear a dress to your launch party! Autumn said you’d be having a launch party? We’d give you one for free, of course!’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Estelle said.

  ‘It’s so glamorous,’ Veronica said. ‘Lillysands’ very own food writer. I remember when you first arrived, darling, such a pretty lost-looking thing.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ another woman declared, and Estelle remembered she owned the local gym with her husband. ‘I remember when my daughter and her friends said they would take you under their wing.’

  Estelle smiled, remembering the woman’s friendly daughter with her long strawberry-blonde hair. She’d come up to Estelle on her first day of school and tucked her arm into hers, telling her any friend of the Garlands was a friend of hers.

  ‘Maybe you can do a talk at the library if you have time?’ a short man with kind eyes that Estelle vaguely recognised said.

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure how long I’m staying,’ Estelle replied, blushing at all the attention. ‘But I can donate a signed copy of my book? God,’ she said, laughing at herself, ‘that sounds weird, saying that out loud. My book.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘And so modest too,’ Veronica said.

  ‘You’ve done us proud,’ the storeowner added, squeezing Estelle’s arm. ‘Really proud.’

  ‘You’re all being so sweet, thank you,’ she said with a happy smile. ‘I’ll catch up later, must top up my orange juice.’

  She took the chance to walk away, still beaming from all the compliments. They made her blush, sure, but it felt good, to have people be proud of her. She remembered as a child coming home with a picture she’d drawn, a sketch of a local church that her teacher said was fantastic. But instead of praise, her parents had laughed at it, saying it looked like an elephant. The next day, she’d found it scrunched up in the bin.

  So to have people express pride over something she’d done – a whole community! – felt special.

  She walked to the kitchen then paused, hearing her name being whispered. It was Lorraine, Autumn and Max’s neighbour who ran her own PR company.

  ‘… can’t change the fact she had a junkie mother. Makes out she’s all good and clean, but we know she isn’t, don’t we?’ Estelle stepped into the shadows, heart thumping as she listened. ‘You remember what she was like when she arrived?’ Lorraine continued.

  ‘Oh, a complete mess,’ the woman with her said. Estelle recognised her voi
ce, it was the woman who owned the gym. ‘Max was horrified. Autumn had to convince him to let her stay, he was nearly on the phone to social services to have her taken back.’

  Estelle’s stomach plummeted, all the pride she’d felt a few moments before dissipating in an instant. She looked towards Max who was topping up someone’s glass as he laughed with them. Had that really happened? Had he really been ready to get rid of her that easily?

  ‘They tried to scrub that past of hers away,’ Lorraine continued. ‘But you can’t teach a dirty dog new tricks. You can even see it in her now. No matter how hard she tries with all that pure eating of hers, she’ll never stop us all seeing her for what we know she is: a junkie’s daughter. Rotten to the core.’

  Estelle stumbled away. She ran out to the veranda, gulping in huge breaths of fresh air.

  How could she have been so naïve to think she could be accepted by Lillysands so easily? Had they been judging her all this time, thinking of her as ‘dirty’ and ‘rotten’ as Lorraine had said? She hadn’t even realised they knew so much of her childhood. And Max. Had he really tried to have her taken away?

  She heard movement in the darkness and turned to see Aiden standing in the shadows, looking at his phone. She walked over to him. She needed to know if it was true about Max. ‘Aiden, I—’

  ‘You seen this article?’ He held the phone up for her, his jaw set. ‘It’s pretty buried, the media seem to be growing bored of Poppy’s story now.’

  She frowned. ‘What article?’

  He handed his phone to her and she looked down at it. It was a short article from a national tabloid.

  Poppy O’Farrell’s Heartache

  Poppy’s former nanny has exclusively revealed that the runaway teenager would often ask about her ‘real mummy and daddy’, something TV presenter Chris O’Farrell struggled with. The teenager, who has now been missing for nearly four days, attended ongoing therapy sessions to deal with issues stemming from her adoption.

  ‘What the hell did you do to our daughter, Stel?’ Aiden said, his green eyes filling with tears. The pride she’d seen in his eyes as they’d cooked in the kitchen earlier was now replaced by disappointment.