Her Last Breath

by Tracy Buchanan

  Then it occurred to Estelle exactly what Veronica knew.

  Estelle chased after them. ‘You knew Darren hurt Alice, didn’t you?’ Estelle said to Veronica.

  Veronica’s face paled.

  ‘It was just the one time,’ she said, peering around her to check no one was looking.

  Peter closed his eyes, shaking his head.

  ‘Mum!’ Darren’s eyes filled with alarm as he looked at Aiden.

  ‘I’m sick of it, Darren!’ Veronica said. ‘You’re not a kid any more. You need to take responsibility.’

  ‘So you did hurt Alice?’ Aiden said, eyes flaring with anger as he walked towards him.

  ‘It was just a slap,’ Darren said, backing away. ‘I was drunk. She was kicking off about something to do with landslides, she was obsessed, telling me to talk to my dad about it as Max wouldn’t listen. I lost my rag. Big fucking deal.’

  ‘He’s had anger management therapy,’ Peter explained. ‘It’s under control.’

  ‘Where did it stop exactly?’ Estelle asked Darren, looking him in the eye. ‘Were you with Alice when she died?’

  Veronica and Peter’s eyes widened.

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ Peter asked.

  ‘You know what I’m suggesting,’ Estelle said to him.

  ‘Are you implying Alice didn’t take her own life?’ Veronica asked.

  Estelle took a deep breath. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Estelle, but you are completely off track with this,’ Veronica said in a shaky voice. ‘That girl committed suicide. I can assure you of that.’

  ‘How do you know for sure?’ Aiden asked her.

  ‘She tried once before – before she lived with Autumn and Max,’ Veronica replied. ‘She was just eleven, took some pills. Autumn told me.’

  ‘Like mother like daughter,’ Peter added.

  Aiden and Estelle exchanged a look. Could that really be true? Why hadn’t Alice told them?

  ‘But the fact remains,’ Estelle said, trying to process the information, ‘Darren did hit Alice. And that means he’s capable of other violent acts – like kidnapping.’

  ‘Oh God, not this again!’ Veronica said, shaking her head.

  ‘Do you own a Polaroid camera, Darren?’ Estelle asked, ignoring Veronica.

  Aiden tried to put his hand on her arm. ‘Stel …’

  She shrugged him off and glared at Darren. ‘Do you?’

  Darren laughed. ‘You are officially losing it. You think I kidnapped your illegitimate kid?’

  ‘Why not?’ Estelle countered. ‘I saw all those articles you had about me. Maybe you did it to get my attention? Maybe you’re angry I didn’t reply to your emails? Maybe you’re jealous I rejected you and chose Aiden? Maybe you’re in financial trouble too and are planning to blackmail me. I don’t know, there are countless reasons.’

  People around them had gone quiet, looking over with raised eyebrows.

  ‘And you,’ Estelle said, turning to Veronica and Peter. ‘This explains why you’ve kept so many things covered up, why other people in Lillysands have. You’ve been protecting your son. You’ve convinced others to as well.’

  ‘Do you realise how you sound?’ Peter asked her. ‘You sound hysterical, Stel. Quite mad. And I’m not the only one who thinks it.’ He gestured to the crowds, familiar faces from Lillysands looming out at her, whispering, some even laughing in disbelief.

  Estelle felt tears prick at her eyelashes. She was sick of this, of being suspicious of everyone, of having no idea who was guilty, who wasn’t. She was sick of people thinking her mad and paranoid.

  She just wanted her daughter safe.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here, Stel,’ Aiden said.

  But she didn’t move. A mother walked past with her child, a little girl of about five. They stood at the cliff, peering up at the curves of Lady Lillysands. Then the little girl placed a teddy at the foot of the cliff, adding to the growing collection there. It was a tradition each year to leave gifts at the feet of Lady Lillysands, all the items were then donated to a local charity. Estelle imagined doing the same with Poppy if things had been different. She let out a sob.

  ‘What a mess I’ve made,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Come on, Stel,’ Aiden said softly. Without looking back, she let him lead her up the hill towards Autumn and Max’s house.

  When they got inside, she slumped on the sofa.

  ‘Mum said she’ll be home with Dad soon,’ Aiden said. ‘We can grill him about Darren then.’

  As Estelle looked at Aiden, she noticed something behind his head, a crack that extended from the top of the wall to the bottom. ‘That wasn’t there yesterday,’ she said.

  Aiden followed her gaze and sighed. ‘Yeah, it appeared overnight. Mum texted me about it; I was going to pop over after the festival to look.’ He walked over to it, placing his fingers on it. ‘Doesn’t look good.’

  ‘Could it have something to do with the landslide down the road?’

  ‘Yep, quite possibly. Jesus, this whole town really is falling apart.’

  ‘Just like I am,’ Estelle whispered. ‘Everyone was looking at me like I was mad. Am I going mad? It feels so believable to me, the idea that Poppy is here, somewhere; that there are secrets here. But to everyone else, it seems preposterous … even you.’

  ‘You’re not going mad,’ Aiden said, sitting beside her and taking her hand. ‘Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong direction? Maybe you need to look at yourself, at why someone might want to do this to you.’

  She went silent. He was right, she hadn’t really thought about it properly. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to.

  The front door clicked open and they both looked up to see Autumn walking in, Max behind her. His cheek was bruised, his eye swollen. He was clutching his arm close to his side.

  ‘Jesus, Dad,’ Aiden said, going up to his father. ‘Who did this to you?’

  ‘Kids,’ Max mumbled.

  ‘Bullshit. Was it Darren?’

  Max stared at his son then shook his head. ‘I need to rest.’

  ‘Was it?’ Aiden asked, following him to the stairs.

  ‘I told you, it was just some kids.’ Then Max walked up the stairs.

  Autumn shook her head as she watched him. Then she noticed Estelle sitting in the living room. ‘Estelle, what’s wrong darling?’

  Estelle realised she was crying. Autumn hurried into the living room and sat beside her, pulling Estelle into her arms. Estelle breathed in her familiar scent, letting Autumn comfort her the way she used to. She’d never felt more safe than she did when she was with Autumn. Right at that moment, she just wanted to curl up with her and make all the bad stuff, all the confusion, go away.

  Autumn put her hands on Estelle’s face, forcing her to look at her. ‘Look at the state of you.’ She peered up at Aiden, who was watching with hooded eyes from the doorway. ‘Give us a few moments, Aiden.’

  He nodded and walked out onto the veranda.

  ‘Now, dry those tears,’ Autumn said to Estelle, using her thumb to wipe Estelle’s tears away. ‘Veronica called me. She said you and Aiden had argued with Darren. What was all that nonsense about?’

  Estelle explained it all: Darren’s relationship with Alice, her concerns he may have taken Poppy. ‘You’re a mother, you understand,’ she said when she’d finished. ‘I just feel in my gut that Poppy running away wasn’t straightforward.’ She peered out of the window. ‘I know she’s here, I can feel it.’

  ‘A mother’s instinct can’t be beaten,’ Autumn admitted, squeezing Estelle’s hand.

  Estelle felt relief. At least someone didn’t think she was mad.

  ‘I just want Poppy safe,’ Estelle said.

  ‘We all do. She’s our family too, a Garland.’

  Estelle caught sight of the large crack which stretched across the wall. Here she was, moaning. And yet Autumn’s house might be falling apart.

  Autumn followed her gaze. ‘Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?’ she s
aid.

  ‘Are you worried?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Autumn put on a brave smile. ‘And don’t you worry either, sweetheart. It’ll give me an excuse to get this whole place redecorated again, won’t it?’

  ‘By Becca?’ Estelle said.

  ‘You remember her?’ Autumn asked, looking surprised.

  ‘Of course. I remember she had really long black hair she’d tie up in a bun, I was so fascinated with it.’ She wasn’t sure why the memory of Becca was so vivid, she’d only seen her a couple of times, and not for over fifteen years. And yet it seemed like Estelle could remember her perfectly, as if she’d seen her only last week …

  ‘Oh, I don’t use her any more,’ Autumn said quickly. ‘I have this fabulous new designer, a gay guy called Diamond. I mean, it’s clearly not his real name but …’

  As Autumn jabbered on about her new designer, a mounting unease filled Estelle.

  ‘I just need to pop to the loo,’ she said, standing up.

  ‘Everything okay, darling?’ Autumn asked, looking up at her through her heavily mascaraed lashes.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Estelle lied.

  She walked quickly to the downstairs bathroom, feeling Autumn’s eyes on her back. When she got in, she locked the door and leaned against it a few moments, the sound of her breath filling her ears, her thumping heart seeming to bounce off the walls. Then she got her phone out, her fingers trembling as she googled ‘Chris O’Farrell wife’.

  As she waited for the results to appear, she held her breath.

  Then there she was. Poppy’s adoptive mother, Rebecca O’Farrell. Piercing blue eyes. A smiling face. Glossy black hair in a bun.

  Estelle put her hand to her mouth. It was her, Autumn’s rich London friend, Becca. Becca who had lent them her apartment. Becca who had liked Estelle’s cooking.

  Estelle strode out of the bathroom, heart thumping. ‘Poppy’s adoptive mother is Becca!’ she said, thrusting the phone at Autumn.

  Autumn stared at it, green eyes blinking.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Estelle asked, the betrayal stinging. She’d trusted Autumn and yet she’d withheld this huge fact from her?

  ‘What’s going on?’ Aiden asked, appearing in the doorway.

  ‘Your mum’s friend Becca is Poppy’s adoptive mother,’ Estelle said. ‘She’s the interior designer, remember? The rich one who came on trips from London. The one who went to school with your mum.’ Estelle showed him her phone while Autumn remained uncharacte‌ristically silent.

  ‘It is her,’ Aiden said. He looked up at his mother. ‘Why didn’t you say, Mum?’

  ‘Gosh, look at you both, so serious!’ Autumn said in an unsteady voice.

  Estelle searched Autumn’s face. She was smiling, but Estelle could see the panic in her eyes as she twisted her necklace with her fingers against her flushed chest.

  ‘Poppy’s adoption was done properly, wasn’t it?’ Estelle asked Autumn. ‘It was all done through the council’s adoption services, right?’

  ‘Of course,’ Autumn said.

  ‘You’re lying,’ Aiden said.

  Autumn sighed. ‘Fine. We arranged it ourselves – what can I say?’

  Estelle’s heart plummeted. ‘What do you mean “arranged it”?’

  Autumn shrugged, examining her nails. ‘Becca is infertile; she was desperate for a baby. You didn’t want your baby, Estelle! She lives hours away so you’d never bump into her. It made sense.’

  ‘Jesus, Mum,’ Aiden said.

  Estelle sank to the sofa, putting her head in her trembling hands. The feeling of betrayal was overwhelming. Autumn had provided a safe haven for her, had enveloped her in love and trust. But that was all torn apart now. Her whole world felt fragile.

  ‘How much?’ Estelle asked, looking up at Autumn. ‘How much did you get for Poppy, Autumn?’

  ‘You’re overreacting!’ Autumn said, trying to put her hand on Estelle’s shoulder. But Estelle batted it away.

  ‘No,’ Aiden whispered. ‘No, Mum, please don’t tell me you sold our daughter.’

  ‘Thirty grand,’ a voice said from the hallway. They all turned to see Max standing there, clutching his ribs. ‘They paid thirty grand. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Stel. You benefitted from it too.’

  ‘Benefitted?’

  ‘The five grand I transferred into your account after you left?’

  Estelle suddenly felt sick. The room began to spin. Tears sprang to her eyes. She thought that money had been their gift to her, something to help her after she’d left, but now she realised it was guilt money.

  ‘Look at me, Stel,’ Aiden said, crouching down in front of her. ‘Look at me.’

  ‘My – my child was sold,’ she whispered, looking into his eyes. ‘I made money from it.’

  As the truth surrounded Estelle, she felt herself slipping back to the hours, all those years ago, just before social services finally took her from her parents for good. Her mum shaking with cold in the back seat of the old car Estelle’s dad had borrowed. Estelle perched on her lap, a pink blanket wrapped around her thin shoulders. Her mum kept kissing her cheek over and over, smiling a desperate smile with tears in her eyes. Her dad sat rigid in the front, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

  ‘Maybe they won’t come,’ Estelle’s mum had said.

  ‘They will,’ Estelle’s dad had spat back, looking over his shoulder at them. Then his eye had caught Estelle’s and she saw a glimmer of the dad he might have been if he hadn’t been ravaged by alcohol and drugs. But then the hardness came back.

  ‘What’s happening, Mummy?’ Estelle remembered asking.

  ‘Just – just some nice people,’ her mum had said, wiping tears from her grimy face. ‘Some really nice people are going to take you away for a while.’

  ‘Take me away?’

  Her mum had shot Estelle’s dad a nervous look, then she’d given Estelle a shaky smile. ‘Just some people who want to look after you, baby.’

  Those people didn’t turn up. Instead, an undercover police officer did. It turned out Estelle’s parents had tried to sell her. Five hundred pounds. Just five hundred pounds.

  And Estelle had gone and done the same thing to her own daughter.

  She started crying, the sobs making her shoulders shake. Aiden tried to pull her into his arms, whispering to her, ‘You are not your parents, Stel,’ but she shoved him away and jumped up, running outside.

  It was raining again, hard; the black clouds that had been hovering out to sea were now directly above the town. In the distance, the festival was being packed up, the revellers finally giving up; even the staunch Lillysands community couldn’t stop a storm.

  Estelle jogged to the pink cottage and what remained of the garden, and came to stand right at the edge of the cliff, as Alice had once done, rivulets of water falling down her cheeks, soaking her top. She understood now how Alice must have felt.

  She had jumped, Estelle knew that now.

  If she’d tried to commit suicide when she was eleven, as Veronica had said, it seemed more likely it was suicide rather than someone pushing her. She remembered what Alice had said at the festival that time, about Lillysands’ goodwill not lasting long. She was so right. Alice was the only one who really saw Lillysands for what it was in the end; saw Autumn and Max for what they were. Why hadn’t Estelle helped Alice? Why had she trusted Max and Autumn so much? Alice hadn’t been so stupid, she saw the rotten core of the town, of its people, and couldn’t take it.

  ‘Estelle?’ She looked up to see Aiden jogging towards her.

  ‘Go away,’ she shouted.

  ‘She’s safe. Poppy’s safe!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look,’ he said, showing her his phone when he reached her, large drops of rain landing on its screen. Beneath them, Estelle discerned a headline: Breaking news: Poppy O’Farrell returns home to TV presenter father safe and sound.

  ‘How can we be sure that’s true?’ Estelle asked, not daring to believe it.
‘After everything we’ve learned? And the Polaroids that were sent to me?’

  ‘Why would they lie?’ Aiden said. ‘This isn’t the only article about it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘She’s safe, Stel!’ Aiden said, grabbing her arms. ‘Our daughter is safe!’

  Estelle tried to match his happiness, but she was overcome with conflicting emotions. Could she have been wrong this whole time? She peered out over Lillysands. No, she wasn’t crazy. She could not believe the people here weren’t in some way involved.

  But the fact was, if the reports were true, Poppy was home; she was safe, and that’s all that really mattered. Estelle allowed herself to feel some relief.

  ‘She’s safe,’ she whispered. ‘Thank God.’

  Then the ground shifted beneath their feet.

  They both froze, looking into each other’s fearful eyes.

  A loud creaking sound filled the air, followed by the splashing of rocks tumbling into the sea below.

  ‘Another landslide,’ Aiden yelled in panic.

  They both scrambled backwards as the ground seemed to disappear from beneath their feet. Estelle watched in horror as what remained of the grass broke away and fell into the sea.

  ‘We need to get away from the edge,’ Aiden said, taking her hand.

  They ran around the side of the cottage, its pink walls trembling as a deafening popping sound filling the air. Estelle turned as she ran down the path away from the cottage, looking over her shoulder just in time to see the windows of the pink cottage shattering, the walls now shaking violently.

  ‘It’s going over,’ she whispered.

  They stopped on the road, and stared as the walls of both cottages slid inwards, the roof crashing down into the middle. And then all seemed to go still, silent, before first the blue cottage then the pink one slid into the sea before their eyes; the crunching and creaking sending seagulls squawking away, their white wings panicked triangles against the darkening skies.

  Estelle thought of all the time she’d spent in that cottage with Alice and Aiden, the memories drifting into the sea with the bricks and mortar.

  Estelle looked up the street, watching in shock as the land started falling away from Seaview Terrace too. On the beach below, people screamed and ran through the rain to get away from the falling debris, abandoned balloons drifting up into rain sodden skies.