Oh, screw it, I thought. Why not?
* * *
Had I had three drinks, or four? Four. Or was it five? A warm glow wrapped me up, the thermals of which were pushing ajar the door in my mind that I tried to keep shut. The door that held my anger and resentment at bay.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ I’d said it a couple of times, but it didn’t seem to stop the words from leaking out. Why? Because it wasn’t true. I did want to talk about you, Beth – but no one wanted to listen to me. At that moment there was a captive audience, though.
‘No one outside family asks me about how Beth is doing now, you know? Because they know what the answer will be. They never ask about how I am; they avoid the subject. Avoid talking to me even.’
‘Okay.’ Glenn nodded. ‘Well, if you do want to talk about it, I’m all ears.’
I cocked my head at him. He spoke softly, so I had to lean close to catch it. It gave even that most innocent of conversations an intimate feel.
‘I’m a good listener. We used to be friends once,’ he added.
That wasn’t quite how I remembered it. As kids at primary school we had sometimes hung around together, and he’d always chosen me for his football team. When we moved up to secondary school in Wapentake we’d had nothing to do with each other, though, not even on the school bus. He had his friends, I had mine. Well, actually, he’d hung around a lot on his own or with his dad. But there had been sidelong glances from Glenn that had made me think he was working up to asking me out. He’d never got the courage, though. And, aged sixteen, I’d started dating your dad.
Whatever we had meant to each other then, I could definitely do with a friend now. Jacob had always been my best friend; I’d never needed anyone else. But now I didn’t dare tell him some of the dark thoughts that were growing in my mind. My fears. The fact that I couldn’t stand the thought of going to that hospital one more time and looking at you, Beth, knowing there was nothing I could do, no way of helping you…
‘Another drink!’ I shouted. Slapped my hand on the wooden bar a couple of times, even though Dale was out of his seat and grabbing a glass.
‘Mel, keep it calm, eh?’ he said.
‘Keep your hair on. This place is like a graveyard. Ha, like Beth’s hospital room. Ha.’
No one found that funny. Not even me.
I got the sudden urge to run away. Glenn seemed to sense it and patted my shoulder with his paw of a hand. Silence stretched between us as big as the sky outside, but Glenn didn’t look away. My lids felt heavy as I blinked.
‘It’s such a tough time for you, Mel. It must be awful. But you and Jacob are getting through it together, right? You don’t mind me asking… ?’
Jacob had been so strong, so amazing. It was hard for me to keep up with him. I felt weak in comparison. Negative.
My bottom lip wobbled pathetically as I shook my head.
‘He doesn’t want to hear that I imagine myself in Beth’s place. That I feel as if, if I think hard enough, make the scene real enough, time will spool back and somehow I will be able to swap places. Better me dead than my daughter.’
I waited for Glenn to correct me. Say my daughter wasn’t dead. But in my booze-filled haze, it suddenly seemed so clear that you were. The only thing that was keeping you alive was a machine.
I needed something to distract me.
‘Another round, please.’ The stool slid to one side beneath me, almost bucking me off, but I managed to recover before anyone noticed.
‘You’ve not finished that one yet,’ Glenn pointed out.
Oh. Yeah. ’Course.
‘Cheers.’ He downed the rest of his pint in one.
I did the same with my wine, and smiled a warm, slow smile that had nothing to do with humour.
‘Thing is, Glenn,’ I said in a deliberate stage whisper, ‘I live in a village where nothing ever happens. Where everyone knows everything about each other. And yet no one knows anything about Beth. No one saw a single thing. Don’t you think that’s a bit suspicious?’
I held up a finger which seemed to waver in front of me like a candle flame. Might need to slow down with the drinking, I thought. Then turned and pointed at a poor unfortunate who happened to be standing closest.
‘Ben Miller! I know that you sneak your rubbish into your neighbours’ bins, and deny it to their faces.’
I pointed at someone else, who jumped back from my loaded finger. ‘Colin Winston, when the village has charity collections or stages fundraisers, you always explain that the reason you don’t donate is because you have standing orders for all the charities you wish to support. But your wife, Susan, admitted to me two years ago that that’s a lie. You’re just a tightwad!’
Glenn laughed and grabbed my weapon, forcing my hand down by my side, still grinning. ‘Yep, I get the point.’
‘See, we all know everything about each other. Yet no one knows who hurt Beth? I don’t buy it!’
He looked at me seriously. ‘If you really believe someone here knows something, why not find out the truth yourself?’
I looked at him for long seconds, taking in what he’d said. Made a decision.
‘I need a wee.’
I turned and fell flat on my face.
Twenty-Seven
BETH
SATURDAY 9 JANUARY
Chloe sat on the edge of Beth’s bed, swinging one leg backward and forward, as the pair of them sang along to Taylor Swift. Beth stood suddenly and grabbed her hairbrush to use as a microphone. Chloe snatched up the blue teddy that had always lived on Beth’s pillow, but which she’d recently downgraded to sitting on her desk instead. It was childish having him out, it had recently occurred to her, but she couldn’t quite stand to put him away yet.
Her best friend started pulling at his arms, up and down, in and out. Making him do a jig.
‘Hey, be careful of Jesus. Don’t tear him.’
Chloe giggled. ‘OMG, Beth, I’d forgotten he was called that. Why the fuck did you call him that anyway?’
She had started swearing a lot lately, though never in front of any parents. She thought it made her look older, tougher. Like she’d thought smoking would make her look more grown-up, until she had vomited after smoking three on the trot while showing off in front of Jason Salter a few months ago. He’d taken pictures and posted them on Instagram and Snapchat. It had taken her a while to live that one down.
Beth thought swearing was kind of pathetic, but kept quiet. She envied Chloe her confidence. Chloe acted as if from the moment she was born she’d known she would conquer the world. Beth was a lot less sure of herself when not in front of those she knew well.
‘Earth calling Beth. Anyone there? Why the fuck did you call your teddy Jesus?’
Beth laughed. ‘Because as a kid I thought all babies were called Jesus. You know, at Christmas it’s always “the baby Jesus” that we’re told about. This was my baby, so there was only one name for him.’
‘Baby Jesus. Like, that’s so hilarious!’
Chloe put the teddy back, then leapt onto the bed and rolled onto her stomach, legs waving in the air.
‘So, how buff is Aleksy? He keeps sitting near us, have you noticed?’
Her eyes twinkled with mischief, but Beth refused to get drawn on that subject. No way.
‘Ooh! Love this song,’ she said instead, as Justin Bieber came on. They sang along, both giggling at the line about loving yourself.
At the end, Chloe sighed. ‘So, you’ll never guess what Mum’s up to now. She’s, like, so embarrassing.’
Beth’s stomach dropped. This was it. Chloe would reveal she knew what Beth had already discovered. The secret would be out.
What Chloe told Beth stunned her even more. Because the revelation was nothing of the sort – it was simply that Ursula was looking into having a facelift.
‘The Botox clearly isn’t enough any more,’ Chloe added, her eyebrows arched cattily.
Her best friend shook her head in despair and lau
ghed.
‘Pinkie-swear you won’t tell anyone, though. It’s meant to be a big secret. Like, maybe she’ll tell people Dad beats her or something when they see her with bruises.’ She cackled as she held out her crooked little finger.
‘Pinkie-swear I’ll stay quiet.’
Chloe knew Beth would keep her word. They had always kept one another’s secrets, always told each other everything and trusted one another completely.
Always, until now.
Somehow Beth didn’t feel comfortable telling Chloe about what she had been doing lately. She preferred to keep it her little secret. Just for the time being.
The secrets were stacking up, though, Beth worried as she gnawed on her thumb. Hers and the ones she held for other people. Sometimes she felt tempted to break her word and confide in someone.
She would wait until she was certain, though.
Twenty-Eight
My face pushed into the pillow. Couldn’t breathe. Legs kicking, body bucking, fighting until…
Yes! I was free!
I rolled over on the mattress, panting after my exhaustive fight with the duvet. My head pounded; my mouth was full of fuzz and it hurt my throat to swallow, thanks to a raging thirst. Even my teeth felt weird. Best not to think about my stomach.
I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Waking the second time, I persuaded myself to sit up in the empty bed. Huh, Jacob must have got up for work without waking me. He must have put me to bed the night before; I certainly didn’t remember doing it.
A memory burst through the darkness of alcohol amnesia. Me, pounding on the front door, demanding to be let in because the key refused to go into the lock.
I winced and swung my legs to the ground, my need for water winning over the weakness of the hangover. I still wore yesterday’s clothes. With every wobbly step, guilt pounded through me. But why?
Another memory firework exploded. My finger, pointing at everyone. Falling over. Eurgh, then my voice, screaming, having a go at pretty much everyone in the pub and finding them all guilty of a cover-up of your attack, Beth. Shame fired my skin. These people were my friends, and I’d lost it with them. Hopefully they understood the strain I was under.
What else?
Heck, Glenn Baker carrying me out of the pub, then setting me down on the church wall opposite our house and talking to me. What had he said?
I veered towards the bathroom, stomach roiling. As I used the loo, another incendiary memory exploded.
If you really believe someone here knows something, why not find out the truth yourself?
Glenn had repeated that while propping me up on the church wall.
Why not find out for yourself?
My dismissive grunt echoed slightly in the bathroom. But… actually, it wasn’t such a bad idea. I couldn’t do a worse job than the police, that was for sure.
Find out the truth, Glenn had urged. I’ll help you.
Shaky hands flushed the loo. Could I?
Lost in contemplation, I made my way downstairs and said good morning to Wiggins, who replied with copious licks on my hand. On the kitchen table stood a glass of juice, which had left a ring on the note it rested on.
Hey you,
Hope you’re okay. Look after yourself! Drink plenty of OJ and eat a decent meal. I’ve gone to work. Hope you’ll be well enough to come to the hospital tonight.
Love you!
Jxx
I drank the orange but couldn’t face food yet. Instead, I filled up a reusable filter bottle with water and took Wiggins for a walk to blow away the cobwebs.
* * *
We ignored all the old places we used to go, and Wiggins knew now that there was only one place we’d be headed. The marsh. Haunting it was my guilty secret; Jacob had no idea. Instinctively I knew he wouldn’t approve.
He wouldn’t approve of Glenn’s words, either, rolling around my head, gathering momentum as we trudged across the endless, recumbent landscape.
Find out the truth.
Jacob trusted the police to do their job. Or maybe he preferred the investigation to stall? That missing hour. The police’s insistence his reaction was distancing and depersonalising. No, that wasn’t fair. Jacob simply questioned everything less than I did. He had blind faith in the authorities. I was losing faith in them.
As I walked, the haunting pe-pee-whit call of lapwings in flight pierced my thoughts occasionally, or the gabbling of brent geese feeding on the coarse grass, their white rumps bright against their neat, dark grey bodies and black heads.
By the time Wiggins and I returned home, three hours later, my stomach was growling like a rabid dog. Stupid of me to walk so far on an empty stomach and hung-over. Wiggins had a drink then stepped into his basket, turned round three times and lay down with a contented sigh, glad to be home and out of the wind. He was too exhausted even to bother watching me as I made a peanut butter sandwich with shaky hands. I wolfed it down, along with a handful of Brazil nuts and a banana, disgusted with myself for needing to eat when you were being fed through a tube.
My body insisted on more food, though. I sipped a hot chocolate that both warmed me and filled me up, while Wiggins twisted onto his back and made little noises in his sleep, his legs twitching as he raced through a dream world.
No chance of rest for me. Glenn’s words haunted me. I needed to see him again, check if he had meant what he’d said.
I headed upstairs and got changed. Nothing special; still jeans, but clean ones, and the blue-grey jumper you always liked. The one you said matched my eyes exactly, remember? It was size 14 and didn’t fit as nicely as it used to, the shoulder seam hanging low down my arm because of my weight loss. The result was baggy and disappointing.
Silly, but there was no denying the drive to make a good impression on Glenn. If I wanted him to help me, I needed him to know I was together and sane, not the drunken slob I’d been the night before, sobbing like a child going through the terrible twos. I brushed my dark blonde hair, pulling it into a neat ponytail that had no stray hairs escaping from it. I even dug out some mascara from the bottom of my drawer and put it on. My eyes looked strangely large, dominating my pinched face. My naturally pale skin – the kind that never tans, just goes red then white again – was a blotchy grey. In desperation, I furiously scrubbed a blusher brush over my cheeks.
Great, now I looked feverish.
This was daft. What could I discover that the police hadn’t? I decided to give Flo a call, see if there was an update.
‘We’re pursuing several—’
‘Lines of enquiry. But, let me guess, you can’t say any more than that at the present time?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as me,’ I finished, hanging up.
That decided me once and for all.
Trembling, I walked over the crossroads, past the church and into The Poacher. There were a handful of customers inside already, and a group playing darts. The sound of the darts thudding into the board was strangely comforting. As I’d hoped, Glenn was leaning on the bar, but he didn’t see me.
Dale spoke up.
‘Melanie, look, we all know you’ve been through a lot. But I’m sorry, you’re barred.’
I clenched my jaw, biting back the anger instantly surging because he couldn’t bring himself to say what I’d been through, or ask how you were doing. Instead I made myself speak calmly, unlike my display the previous night.
‘I’ve come here to apologise.’
Glenn turned to look at me.
Please be impressed with my humility.
‘Mate, last night was my fault,’ he said, putting his hand on his heart. ‘It was me who kept buying Mel drinks, and asking her about what happened to Beth.’
He said your name as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I silently thanked him for that. No one else did any more, as though you had become a curse, like Macbeth.
‘Come on. Blame it on the stupid newcomer. Don’t blame Mel.’
Dale hesitated. Then the tension in his face and shoulders slid away. It was obvious he’d relented before he said the words.
‘Go on, then. One more chance.’
Glenn held out his paw and the men shook on it.
‘Stupid newcomer,’ repeated Dale, laughing. Clapped Glenn on the back. ‘Like our dads weren’t best mates.’
That was the thing about Fenmere: we all knew each other, our families woven together for generations. Friendships forged through grandfathers working side by side, or enemies made because a great-grandfather cheated someone out of land. Our battle lines and alliances drawn up before we were born. All the villagers were my family.
Jacob and I weren’t like that. Our families shared no history. He had moved to Wapentake, along with his elder brother and younger sister, from Leeds when he was fourteen. The fresh blood had caused quite a stir at school when he arrived, and all the girls had fancied him. He had gone through them like a hot knife through butter, dating them then casting them aside, no one lasting longer than a couple of months. When he’d asked me out, I had turned him down, not because I didn’t fancy him but because I didn’t trust him. So he had stopped asking and instead become my friend.
Later, he’d admitted that, while friendship was great, he had always hoped it would turn into more. He’d confessed on our first date, just a handful of days before I turned seventeen.
After that we’d been inseparable, our friendship the foundation that made us solid enough to last through anything. Even this.
Glenn waved a hand in front of my face to regain my attention.
‘Drink?’ I asked. ‘I’m having an orange juice.’
‘Yeah, the same.’
‘What about you, Dale?’
He poured himself a pint, then wandered back to his stool and the day’s crossword.
My stomach fluttered as I took a seat beside Glenn, and it had nothing to do with the final remnants of hangover. Well, not much, anyway.
The Darkest Lies: A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 9
