Her Last Breath

by Tracy Buchanan

  Estelle kept her eyes on the crumbling rock, tracing it up to one house: Autumn and Max’s house.

  ‘Your parents’ house,’ she said to Aiden.

  People were coming out of their homes, flooding the road as they ran to safety. Estelle pushed her way through them as Aiden followed, finally coming to the house she’d once loved, cracks zigzagging up its lilac façade, jagged and cruel.

  A window cracked and a hush fell over the people running past. Estelle could see something in their eyes, a sudden realisation that their beautiful town wasn’t as perfect as they thought.

  A creaking sound pierced the air. The crowds rolled back farther, screams echoing around them. Autumn and Max ran out of the house, faces desperate, terrified as they reached Estelle and Aiden. Estelle couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, despite everything she’d learnt. Everyone stood very still. Even the sea beyond seemed to freeze: once wild now calm. Estelle felt Aiden’s hand on her back and she moved closer to him.

  ‘It’s going over, isn’t it?’ Autumn whispered.

  ‘I think so, Mum,’ Aiden replied as Max pulled her close.

  The blue lights of a police van swirled around them; two police officers jumping out.

  ‘Everyone back!’ one of them shouted out. ‘This house is about to go. It’s dangerous.’

  Autumn’s face went pale. ‘I thought I’d live here until I died,’ she whispered.

  Estelle put her hand on her shoulder. Despite all the lies, she could still sympathise with Autumn. She wanted to say it was only bricks and mortar. But she knew more than anyone how a place could tangle itself into you. Like Lillysands – how she so hated it yet loved it too, pretty ivy needling itself into the core of her.

  Autumn leaned her head on Estelle’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘We betrayed you.’

  As she said it, the walls of the house toppled in on themselves.

  Autumn collapsed into Max, sobbing into his chest as tears flooded Aiden’s eyes. Then a terrible roar filled the air and the Garland’s grand lilac house crumbled into the sea.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  One month later

  ‘Over there. No, there, by the champagne glasses.’ Estelle pointed towards the round wooden table to the right of her.

  Her publicist Kim smiled and moved the origami apple. ‘Here?’ she asked.

  ‘Left a little,’ Estelle instructed. Kim moved the apple a few centimetres to the left and looked at Estelle for confirmation.

  ‘Just a tiny bit more’, Estelle said.

  Kim inched the apple across. ‘Now okay?’

  Estelle smiled. ‘Perfect. Thank you!’ Everything was just as it should be.

  ‘Oh, and here’s the book you’re doing your speech from,’ Kim said, handing Estelle her copy with its stickie notes jutting up from inside.

  Estelle took it and surveyed the room. It was on the second floor of a vegan restaurant she often dined at, overlooking Borough Market. Dotted here and there were distressed wooden tables adorned with canapes and drinks. Lining the shelves of the four white columns in the room were copies of her book.

  Her book.

  Finally, the day had come: her launch party.

  The scent coming from the food rose into the air, making her tummy rumble.

  Her editor Silvia strode in, pulling Estelle into a hug. ‘You look amazing.’

  ‘Thank you, so do you! What about the room, does everything look okay?’ Estelle asked, peering around her.

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘Five minutes until everyone arrives,’ Kim called out.

  ‘Right,’ Estelle said, smiling nervously as she smoothed down her white dress, simple and pure, sweeping her blonde fringe from her eyes. She’d had it newly highlighted and the return to her old diet had made her skin clean and clear again. Everything was back on track, and nobody knew any different.

  ‘Do you want a moment alone to take it all in?’ Silvia asked her.

  ‘Yes, that would be good actually.’

  Silvia and Kim both nodded, leaving the room. Estelle took a deep breath, looking at the food she’d created, the books, and the champagne. This was the sum of her; of what she’d worked so hard to become. She walked around the room, gliding her fingers just above the mini sweet potato burgers and small glass jars filled with rainbow salads; courgette roll-ups and salmon oatcakes.

  She passed a mirror and paused, looking at herself. Her hair was shorter, neat and bright, her face looking healthy from her short holiday with her friend Christina. But there were dark circles that hadn’t been there two months before; something new in her eyes too, a sadness. She thought of Poppy. How sad she’d appeared when she was dragged in front of the cameras a week after she returned home. Estelle hadn’t liked the way her father had gripped her arm to make her change position, the hard look in her mother’s eyes. It made Estelle sick to think how unhappy Poppy must be. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact Poppy’s mother was Becca.

  DC Jones had told her Poppy was just a typical troubled teenage girl, wanting a little freedom. As for the Polaroids, though Poppy hadn’t admitted to it yet, the detective’s theory was she’d run away with an older boy. Perhaps that boy had somehow learnt Estelle was Poppy’s birth mother – easier to uncover, considering she’d been privately adopted – and had been planning on blackmailing Estelle.

  But it rang false for Estelle. Why wouldn’t she have received a ransom note of some kind? And why that photo of Alice?

  Of course, when Estelle had questioned DC Jones about it further, he’d told her she needed to move on. Poppy was safe. Wasn’t that all that mattered? It wasn’t like Estelle could do anything about it after all. He’d also made it very clear there was to be no contact between her and Poppy unless Poppy asked for it.

  And clearly Poppy hadn’t asked for it.

  So Estelle had done just as he’d advised, throwing herself into planning for the launch party, taking in the news items about Poppy’s return but not dwelling on them too much.

  Thoughts of her time in Lillysands still lingered. Autumn had tried to call her, even sent a few emails, but Estelle had ignored them. She’d not heard anything from Aiden. After the house collapsed into the sea, he’d had to be there for his parents. But a look had passed between them as they said goodbye, a look that told her that evening in the hotel was a one-off. It was time to leave the past behind, proper closure, finally. So Estelle had taken the chance to slip away and return to London. She’d sent him an invite to tonight but he hadn’t RSVPd, so she was sure he wouldn’t be there.

  That was a good thing. The Garlands were firmly in her past now, Lillysands too. Even if the people of Lillysands were behind the Polaroids, the fact was, she hadn’t received any others and Poppy was safe. Clearly miserable, but safe.

  She had to concentrate on throwing herself back into her clean, pure lifestyle, focusing on the book launch and finding a new place. She and Seb had agreed to part ways during a fraught lunch. Estelle had called him on her return and arranged to meet up. Seeing him, she’d felt nothing, such a contrast to the way she felt around Aiden. So she’d suggested they break up. He’d agreed. She couldn’t tell if it was what he really wanted, like her he was a master of hiding his true feelings. So now she was renting a place a few miles from where she’d lived with Seb as she searched for a permanent home.

  And now here she was. Her big day.

  She took a deep breath, smiling at herself in the mirror. ‘You’ve done it,’ she said. ‘You’ve really done it.’

  Kim peered through the door. ‘Ready? People are here.’

  Estelle took a final calming breath. ‘Ready.’

  The door opened and guests started pouring into the room: journalists and bloggers, friends and associates. Over the next hour, she moved around the room, speaking to old and new acquaintances, thanking people for coming, and signing books. Every now and again, thoughts of Poppy and those few days she’d spent back in Lillysands cre
pt in. But she buried them deep, along with thoughts of the Garlands.

  As Estelle was talking to a journalist, Kim walked over to her and whispered in her ear, ‘We’re ready for you.’ She gestured towards the small stage area with a lectern set up, a pile of Estelle’s books on a table nearby.

  Estelle took in a deep shaky breath. She might be able to talk to a camera for hundreds of thousands of people in her videos, but public speaking was all together another thing.

  She looked towards the corner of the room where all her friends were. Christina gave her a thumbs up. Estelle smiled at her, drawing strength from her presence, then she walked up to the lectern, the book she was going to read from in her hand.

  A hush fell over the room.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming tonight,’ Estelle said, looking around the room. ‘It means more than you know that you’re all here to join my journey into the world of pure living.’ She paused, raising an eyebrow. ‘However, the writing of this book was anything but pure. You should see the green tea stains on my laptop from the endless nights I spent agonising over the words to write.’

  The room laughed and she felt herself relax.

  ‘It’s been quite a journey.’ She looked out of the window over the city spires, imagining the sea’s whisper a long way away. ‘From difficult beginnings,’ she said, looking at Louis, the journalist who’d visited her and subsequently published his article, misinterpreting her abrupt ending of the interview for shame about her birth parents. ‘Something I’m not ashamed to talk about because it’s what made me who I am. And now this,’ she said, sweeping her hands around the room. ‘Look how far I’ve come. Little old me, shivering in the corner of my room as my parents argued all those years ago. I’d never have dreamed this would be my destination.’

  People in the room whooped, others applauding. She’d been nervous about bringing up her childhood, but Kim had convinced her it was the right thing to do after the newspaper interview came out.

  She thought of Lillysands’ windswept shores and of her daughter. Of course, there were some secrets best kept hidden away.

  ‘But here I am, even if I can’t believe it. And here this is,’ she said, holding her book up and giving it a kiss as people laughed. ‘A dream come true.’

  Everyone clapped and she tried to bask in the glory of it. But an emptiness consumed her. She clenched her fists, willing it away.

  Enjoy this moment, she told herself.

  ‘I’d like to read a passage or two if you don’t mind, and as I do, these wonderful people will be encouraging you to taste some of the very recipes I talk about,’ she said, gesturing to the serving staff now filing into the room with wooden trays of food. ‘That’s if you haven’t eaten enough of the canapés already,’ she added with another raised eyebrow.

  The room laughed.

  She opened her book to the page she’d marked with a Post-It note.

  ‘So this passage is from my section on pure party food, which seemed appropriate for this evening,’ she said, peering up at the crowds. ‘You’ll have noticed I open each section with a personal anecdote. And this one is particularly …’

  She paused as she looked down at the page, brow furrowing.

  It didn’t make sense.

  The words she’d expected to be there were gone. Instead, there were the same lines printed over and over, so achingly familiar:

  They say you’re as pure as the driven snow. But I know you’re not.

  I’m watching you. I know everything about you.

  Watch your back or you might go over the edge.

  Imagine if this photo gets into the wrong hands?

  Estelle flicked through the book with trembling hands, her breath coming quick and loud, muffling the microphone. The other pages were fine. It was just this one, the page she was going to read from.

  Then something slipped from the book. A creased piece of paper, yellowed with time.

  Her breath caught in her mouth as she recognised the writing.

  Alice’s writing.

  To anybody who still cares, it began. The next time you’ll see me, I’ll be in the sea …

  Estelle smothered a gasp then quickly shoved it in her pocket, aware of everyone’s eyes on her. Then she looked up at the room, laughing nervously. ‘Well, typically, I bring the wrong book with me.’

  She looked at the columns filled with her books. Were the same lines printed in those? People had been reading them. Surely someone would have said? She peered towards the table of books beside her and grabbed one, quickly opening it to the page she’d been reading, relief flooding through her when she saw the words were as they should be.

  Then she flicked back through the doctored copy in her other hand, and something caught her eye. A scribble inside. She opened it to its title page and peered closer.

  To Aiden, climbing to new heights. Luv Stel. X

  This was the book she’d given to Aiden. His copy was the one she’d marked up for the speech on the train journey to Lillysands. When she’d returned from Lillysands, she’d marked up a second book with Post-its in the same places for the speech … the book she thought she had in her hands now.

  So why was she holding Aiden’s book instead?

  As she looked up, she saw Aiden at the back of the room, walking towards the exit.

  Ignoring the confused whispers of the crowd, she jogged down the steps towards him.

  Her editor stepped towards her and softly grasped her arm. ‘Everything okay, Estelle?’ she whispered.

  ‘Can you take the stage for a moment,’ Estelle said, eyes pleading with her editor. ‘I just need to speak to someone. Thank you.’

  ‘Sure. But—’

  Before Silvia had finished, Estelle was out the door, and Aiden was waiting for her.

  ‘You did this?’ she whispered when she reached him. ‘How?’ she added, looking at the book in her hands.

  ‘You gave me an early copy of your book, remember?’ he replied, as people looked over at them. ‘Easy enough to have a new page glued in then come here and swap your book for mine, especially when you leave your bag lying about.’

  She looked at him in shock. What was going on? Was she losing her mind. ‘But – but why?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re your words, aren’t they?’ he said.

  What did he mean? Estelle examined his face, he looked different somehow from the Aiden from her childhood; from the Aiden she’d spent the night with a month before. The warmth was gone.

  ‘These are the words you sent to Alice,’ he said bitterly.

  Estelle’s breath slowed, a strange buzzing in her head. She looked into Aiden’s eyes.

  He knew.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  My stomach is huge now. It seems to swallow me all up.

  I feel like I’ve been trapped in my bedroom for months. Watching Alice and Aiden have fun together made me sick with jealousy, but he’s gone now and I feel more alone than ever. And if that isn’t bad enough, Alice is making the most of my absence from all the events we usually attend – birthday parties, beach BBQs, the annual funfair – to suck up all the attention I used to get. Trying to usurp me and cement herself into Lillysands.

  Well, that’s all going to change, isn’t it?

  From my window, I see a movement on the cliff outside.

  Is it you, Alice? I think so.

  Then I see your long red hair, and I know it is.

  Maybe today is the day you will finally leave Lillysands. Maybe you’re taking it all in one last time before you go. I thought the photos and notes weren’t enough, that I’d have to plan something else.

  But maybe they’ve worked.

  I peer closer. You’re standing right at the edge of the cliff.

  I feel that guilt again. Once a trickle – now something more.

  Maybe it’s the hormones making me weak. Sentimental.

  I know I have to stay strong. I have to make sure you don’t ruin our family and the town I’ve grown to love
.

  I know you want to destroy it. I overheard Max and Peter talking about the fact you want to ruin everything. That Max might even have to sell the house, stop fostering too if they didn’t have enough rooms.

  And that would mean I’d have to leave them.

  No.

  I don’t know what you’ve done, but I just can’t let that happen! I’ve worked so hard to finally be accepted by a family; to feel part of a community.

  And now you want to ruin it all.

  Autumn and Max have saved me, so now I’ll save them. And it’s working, I really think it is! I can tell you’re going to leave town, very soon. You were so quiet at dinner last night.

  Yes, I’ve done a good job. I saw the look on your face when you found that last photo I’d taken of you, the way you’d looked shocked and scared as you’d read my little notes. Just some little digs about us all knowing you for what you really are, a pretender.

  I know how embarrassed you are about your life before you came to the Garlands, just as I am. How keen you are to appear like a clever perfect little thing. Protecting that would come above anything, even your attempts to destroy the very people who took you in.

  And it’s working, isn’t it? You’re unravelling just as I’d known you would.

  I ought to be happy. So why do I feel so sad?

  But this is what you do. Make me feel like you’re a good person when really you’re not.

  And you’re not, are you, Alice? You’re not good. I saw the way you flirted with Aiden any time you could. I know you want to take him off me. What have I done to you? What have Autumn and Max done? Why are you punishing us?

  And yet it’s so hard to believe sometimes, that you really want to destroy us all like Max told Peter. You’re so convincing. The way you smile at me. The love in your eyes. Like a sister …

  You’re still at the cliff. Even closer to the edge now.

  You turn. See me watching you.

  Something’s wrong. There’s a look in your eyes …