by Sue Fortin
I feel myself bristle but realise I will sound childish if I tell Joanne it isn’t any of her business. ‘About a year,’ I reply.
‘Don’t you feel strange without it?’ says Joanne. She passes me a glass of wine she has just poured.
‘Not now. At first I did, but it didn’t seem right to go on wearing it,’ I say.
‘You don’t feel a tiny bit disloyal to Darren?’ She passes the other glasses round and takes a sip from her own.
I feel obliged to answer. ‘No. I don’t, actually. We had separated and were going through a divorce.’
‘What about Alfie? How does he feel about you not wearing it?’
‘Really, Joanne, it’s nothing for you to concern yourself with. And Alfie’s thoughts are definitely none of your business.’
‘Don’t take offence. I was only asking.’
‘I’m not taking offence. Let’s just forget about it. It really isn’t important.’
‘Sure.’ Joanne gives a tight smile. ‘How is Alfie anyway? He said he was thinking of quitting counselling.’
I have no idea what Joanne is talking about. To say it irks me that she seems to know more about my own son than I do is an understatement. However, it is nothing compared to the hurt I feel knowing my son has confided in Joanne rather than me, his own mother. I compose myself, not wanting to give Joanne the satisfaction of having one over on me. ‘I don’t think now is the right time to talk about Alfie’s counselling.’ I look round at the others. Zoe looks down, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting and Andrea pulls a sympathetic, this is awkward face.
‘No, you’re quite right,’ says Joanne. ‘I’m sorry. Let’s have a toast to both our birthdays.’
We all join in with a degree of over-enthusiasm to disguise yet another awkward conversation. Zoe begins to chatter away about the latest diet she’s on, which will clearly go to pot now, but who cares, we’re here to party!
I force a smile and join in, although the celebratory mood has left me. I was foolish to think this weekend would be some sort of reconciliation. Right now, far from forgiving Joanne, I want to throttle her.
Chapter 9
‘Hey, what do you make of Zoe being engaged before?’ asks Andrea as we get ready for bed. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No, but then she’s quite private about her marriage.’
‘Yeah, she doesn’t like to talk about it. All I know is that he was a rotten bastard and he lives up in Liverpool now.’
‘I don’t think they’re even on speaking terms. When they need to make arrangements for the boys, they do it via text messages.’
‘She’s pretty bitter about her ex.’
‘Bitter. Yes, you could say that. Probably just as well they live so far apart. She absolutely loathes him.’ I let out a sigh as I think back to Darren and wonder if we would have gone down that path and ended up hating each other. I’d like to think not.
‘You all right?’ asks Andrea.
‘Me? Yeah, I’m fine,’ I say, although I’m aware I don’t sound particularly convincing. Thinking of Darren, together with Joanne’s comments about Alfie, has left me feeling emotionally exhausted.
‘Joanne was out of order earlier,’ continues Andrea. ‘She should keep her nose out of your business.’
‘Try telling her that,’ I say, as I pull off my T-shirt and fish out my pyjamas from the drawer. ‘She sees Alfie as her business.’ Pulling my pyjama top on, I slide my hands round my back and unfasten my bra and slip the straps from my shoulders, before yanking it out from under my top. ‘As I said to you before, Alfie spends so much time there, he tells her more than he tells me.’ I fling the bra on to my bed. ‘And that really hurts.’
‘Perhaps he finds it easier to talk to her. He’s at that age where sometimes it’s hard to speak to your parents. I’m sure Bradley doesn’t tell me half of what he’s thinking or doing.’
‘I appreciate that, but it still hurts. All I’ve ever done is try to support him, to look after and look out for him. He hates me. I’m sure about that.’
‘He doesn’t hate you,’ says Andrea. She sits down on her bed. ‘You’re his mum and he loves you. He’s obviously still having a hard time coming to terms with what happened.’
‘It’s bloody damaged him psychologically,’ I say. The effect of the wine from earlier is loosening my tongue. ‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have had that huge argument with Darren. If I hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have been so desperate …’ I conquer the urge to say more.
‘None of that was your fault,’ says Andrea. She knows I feel guilty, but the depth of her appreciation of that guilt only reflects what she knows. She doesn’t know everything.
I fling myself back on the bed and put an arm over my face. If I hide my face, she can’t see there’s something else that weighs heavy on my conscience. ‘I wish I could have shielded Alfie from seeing Darren like that. I can cope with it; I’m strong enough. He’s not.’
‘You can’t change what happened.’
‘You know what the worst bit is?’ I sit up, guilt making way for anger. ‘Darren knew Alfie was outside, waiting for me. He knew we’d come in the house together, but he didn’t give a damn. In his warped mind, he was punishing me. He was going to make sure I lived with this for the rest of my life. He hated me for wanting a divorce and he wanted to get some sort of revenge. Not once did he consider what he would be putting his son through.’ I scrunch the bedspread in my fists as the anger storms through me. ‘That’s the bit I cannot forgive. He bloody well knew Alfie would see him, and that was his way of punishing me forever.’
‘At best, he was mentally ill and at worst a selfish bastard,’ says Andrea. She moves to sit next to me and puts a comforting arm around my shoulders.
‘Joanne’s not helping either. She shouldn’t be bringing Alfie into it. She’s out of order.’
‘I can speak to her, if you like?’
‘No. Don’t do that.’ I shake my head vigorously. ‘I can deal with her. But thanks anyway.’
Andrea gives my shoulder a squeeze and kisses the side of my head. ‘Right, no more talk of Darren. Not for tonight anyway.’ We exchange a smile before she continues, ‘This game of Joanne’s. What do you think to it?’ Andrea gets up and takes her washbag from her rucksack and extracts her face-wipes. ‘She’s gone to a lot of trouble.’
‘That’s Joanne for you.’ I resume my horizontal position on the bed and stretch out my legs, thankful that my hobby of cross-country running has stood me in good stead for the ramble up the hillside and through the forest earlier.
‘Do you want to team up?’ says Andrea with a grin.
‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, type of thing?’
‘You got it.’ Andrea rubs her face with the wipe.
‘Appealing as the idea may be, I think we should at least try to work out who each other is,’ I say. ‘It’s a bit unfair on Zoe if we team up.’
‘Spoilsport,’ says Andrea with good humour. ‘Maybe tomorrow we should try to find the clues Joanne mentioned.’
I think back to the photograph of Charles and Diana. I’m pretty sure that’s a clue about my character, left for one of the others to find. I take out my notebook and go back over the information I’ve found out about the other characters. ‘We get to ask each other three more questions tomorrow.’
‘I’m going to need more help,’ says Andrea. ‘I haven’t the patience for all this. I’m never going to be able to work it out. We’ll have to ask Joanne for a clue.’
‘Good idea. We’ll consult the Oracle.’
‘That’s if we make it back from the all-day hike she has planned for us.’ Andrea drops the used face-wipe into the bin and picks up her washbag. ‘Where did she say we were going?’
‘Archer’s Path,’ I reply. ‘She said it’s a fabulous walk and takes a couple of hours. I hope the weather holds out, it wasn’t looking so good this afternoon.’
‘I’m going to brush my teeth,’ says Andrea. ‘Won�
�t be a moment.’
I pull back the duvet and climb into bed. I need to think of something other than Alfie. I don’t want to spend the night replaying my confrontation with Joanne and worrying about what Alfie may or may not have said to her.
Andrea comes back into the room. The look on her face instantly alerts me, something is not right. I sit up. ‘You OK?’
‘No. I’m not. Look what I just found in my washbag – and I sure as hell didn’t put it in there.’
How are you feeling now? Enjoying the weekend? Probably not, and that’s such a shame. You don’t think anyone has noticed, do you? That no one has seen your body language, the way the pallor of your face changes when you’re upset. The way it goes from a pinky glow to a deathly white, almost translucent. And the way your pupils dilate and your breathing quickens when the ‘D’ word is mentioned. They are only small modifications to your behaviour, small enough to go undetected by those who are not looking for them, but not small enough for someone like me to miss.
I don’t mind admitting this is giving me much more of a thrill than I thought it would. I love how I have the power over you. I have the control. I am the puppet master. I am Geppetto and you are Pinocchio.
Are you unnerved? You probably don’t know why, but you can sense something is wrong. I like the thought of the fear and panic this makes you feel. I wonder if that’s how you reacted before? When you had to confront your worst nightmare? Did you panic then? You never speak about it. Why is that? Don’t answer. I know why that is. If you speak about it, people will feel entitled to ask you questions, awkward questions. Ones you’d sooner not face. You’ve never told anyone your secret.
And the reason for that? Because you feel guilty – and rightly so. You are guilty. You have ruined my life and I am about to ruin yours. I’m coming for you, so you’d better watch out.
SATURDAY
Chapter 10
Any idea that I might be able to sleep in the following morning is dashed by Joanne banging on the bedroom doors at eight o’clock and then poking her head into the room to announce breakfast will be ready in half an hour.
‘Is she serious?’ groans Andrea, snuggling further into her bed. ‘I was hoping I’d have a nice gentle wake-up call, breakfast in bed, even.’
I laugh. ‘Oh, she’s serious all right. I think she wants to head off on this hike at about ten.’
Andrea pulls the duvet back down. ‘I suppose I’d better show willing.’
I swing my feet out of bed and perch on the edge of the mattress. ‘Are you going to show the others what you found last night?’
‘I guess so. It must be part of the game. Although, I don’t know what the significance is.’
I reach over and pick up the dollar bill that Andrea found in her washbag. ‘It’s definitely meant for you, no mistake. I was wondering last night if that wedding ring Zoe found was put there by Joanne as part of the game. It could be a clue.’
‘Yeah, I thought that too. But again, I’ve no idea what the significance is. And if both Zoe and I have had something left for us, that means you’ve got something coming to you.’
‘I’m a bit nervous now,’ I say with a laugh. ‘I’m going to be on edge the whole day, waiting for something to turn up.’
I get up and make my way to the bathroom. As I stand under the shower, I let my mind drift to the game and the clues so far. Something is nagging at the back of my mind and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Something to do with the wedding ring.
It isn’t until I have finished showering and am brushing my teeth that it suddenly comes to me.
My character card, Diana, Princess of Wales, the wedding ring and the out-of-place photograph of Diana and Charles must all be connected. My card said I was an adulteress. The wedding ring signifies the marriage, the photograph is the out-of-place thing in the house.
I spit the toothpaste down the sink and rinse my mouth while musing over the US dollar bill Andrea has been left. Obviously something to do with money. I think back to yesterday where we discovered that Andrea’s character had committed a crime but not a violent one. Was bank robbing a non-violent crime? Was she a famous bank robber? Bonnie and Clyde come to mind straight away. I’ll have to look at my notebook to check. Then I will look around the house for another clue.
I can’t help grinning to myself. I quite like this game now. Of course, I won’t be able to tell Andrea. No. I’ll have to keep this to myself.
Ten minutes later, I’m downstairs with the others, tucking into a cooked breakfast Joanne has been kind enough to prepare. ‘This is really good of you,’ I say, trying to get the new day off to a fresh start. ‘I wouldn’t normally eat this at home, but somehow it’s different when I’m away. I can always manage a full English.’
‘I’m exactly the same,’ says Zoe.
‘We need to have our energy levels high for today’s hike,’ says Joanne.
‘Notice she didn’t say walk,’ says Andrea, raising an eyebrow. ‘The word hike is slightly unsettling me.’
‘You’ll love it,’ says Joanne. ‘It really is a beautiful walk, and the waterfall and vantage point at the end is well worth the effort. I’ve prepared a packed lunch for each of us. If you can all carry your own, that will save one of us carrying too much.’
‘Before we head off, I have something to tell you,’ says Andrea. She puts her knife and fork together, pushing the plate away. She leans back so she can get her hand in the front pocket of her trousers and produces the money she’d found the night before. She puts it on the table.
‘What’s that?’ says Zoe, picking up the note.
‘That was in my washbag last night.’ Andrea looks over at Joanne.
‘Don’t look at me,’ says our hostess.
‘Too late,’ I say with a laugh. ‘You most definitely got the look.’
‘Anyway, as I say, it was in my washbag. I definitely didn’t bring it with me, so I can only assume it’s part of the game,’ says Andrea.
‘What does it mean?’ asks Zoe, inspecting both sides of the note.
‘We haven’t worked that bit out yet,’ says Andrea. ‘Feel free to share any ideas.’
Zoe frowns. ‘Sorry, I don’t have any. I don’t think I’m going to win this game. I have no idea what’s going on.’
‘All will become clear,’ says Joanne. ‘Keep playing.’
‘Can we ask our next three questions?’ I ask. ‘That will give me something to think about today.’
Ten minutes and nine questions later, we can add some more details to our notebooks.
‘To summarise,’ I say. ‘Zoe, we now know these things about your criminal activities. You acted alone. You went to prison but you are now out. You were in the newspapers. It was to do with a bank and it was in the last twenty years.’
‘Aha, I think I know who you might be,’ says Andrea, a satisfied look on her face. ‘All I need now is to find a clue around this place.’
‘Remember, don’t say anything until tomorrow evening,’ says Joanne.
Andrea mimes zipping her mouth closed and sits back with folded arms.
‘OK, Miss Clever-Clogs,’ says Zoe. ‘Let’s ask Carys her questions. I’ll go first.’
‘Fire away,’ I say.
Five minutes later, Zoe is studying her notebook. ‘This is hard. I can’t think who you might be. You were in the public eye. You were very popular. You were not a TV celebrity. You were not a singer. You married someone famous. Wait a minute … I think I know who you are. Damn it, I want to ask another question but I can’t.’
‘What about you Andrea? You any the wiser?’ I ask.
‘Possibly.’ Andrea taps her notebook with her pencil.
‘We need to get off on our walk soon. Are you going to ask Andrea any questions?’ says Joanne.
‘I’ll ask first,’ says Zoe. ‘Andrea, we know from yesterday you are a criminal, so my first question today is, are you a murderer?’
Andrea nods. ‘Yes.’
‘Quest
ion two. Were you caught for your crime?’
‘She must have been,’ I say. ‘We wouldn’t know about it otherwise.’
‘But you’ve asked the question and can’t change your mind now,’ says Andrea. ‘And the answer is yes.’
‘Knickers,’ huffs Zoe. ‘I didn’t think of that. OK, last question from me. Did you hang for your crime?’
A stilled silence swamps the room. Joanne throws me a sideways look and then exchanges one with Andrea. Of all the questions Zoe could have asked, she had to mention hanging. It seems like minutes but in fact it is only a couple of seconds. I realise everyone is waiting for my reaction. I swallow, fake a smile and urge Andrea to answer the question.
‘Oh, God, sorry,’ says Zoe, her hand flying to her throat. ‘I didn’t mean …’
I wave her apologies away and give her a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s fine. Honestly. So, Andrea, yes or no?’ I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince the most that I’m fine, them or me. I will Andrea to answer the question so we can move on.
‘Yes. I did,’ says Andrea.
‘My questions,’ I say. I want to get this over with as soon as possible. The air in the room is thick and oppressive. Indoors is where the demons lurk. I need fresh air. I need space. Open space. I concentrate on asking my questions. ‘Did you live in the UK?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it in the north?’
‘Yes.’
‘Manchester?’ I’ve no idea why it would be Manchester, I just want to get my questions over with.
‘No.’
‘That’s that all done,’ I say. The claustrophobia won’t go away. The walls of the dining room have moved in several metres. The windows are smaller and the doorway is disappearing like something from Alice in Wonderland. I get up abruptly. The scraping of the chair legs on the floor is amplified by the small surroundings, the noise claws at my eardrums. I need to get out before the door gets any smaller and the walls squash the air from me.
I fumble with the door handle on my first attempt, but manage to stagger out into the hallway. Not bothering to grab my coat, I make for the front door. The fresh cold air of the Scottish countryside hits me full in the face, knocking the breath back down my throat. I gulp. Stand tall. Gulp again. I take a deep controlled breath in, hold for the count of three and then release slowly. I repeat this several times.
