The Birthday Girl

by Sue Fortin

  ‘Shit! Sorry,’ she hisses. Andrea is trying to whisper but making a lousy job of it. I keep my eyes closed in the hope she will think I’m still asleep. Wrong. ‘Carys. Carys, are you awake?’

  I can hear her footsteps travel between our two beds. I open my eyes. ‘No, I’m not asleep. What is it?’

  ‘I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Can’t it wait until the morning?’

  ‘No. It can’t. Please, Carys.’

  ‘It had better be worth it,’ I say, sitting up. The quicker we get this conversation over with, the quicker I can go to sleep.

  ‘Do you believe Zoe?’ Andrea rocks slightly on the edge of her bed.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About not having an affair with a married man and that married man not being Tris.’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t think straight this evening,’ I confess. ‘And you can’t either. Whether Zoe’s telling the truth or not isn’t that important, not in the scheme of things.’

  ‘Of course it is! She’s lying and I know it. Her and Tris are definitely having an affair.’

  ‘But you’ve no proof. I’m sure Tris wouldn’t be unfaithful to Joanne anyway. Not with her friend. And Zoe wouldn’t do that to Joanne.’ I lie back down, wishing I’d never engaged in this conversation. ‘Go to sleep.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past Tris. I told you what a randy bugger he was that Christmas, remember?’

  ‘Maybe he’s been flirting with Zoe and Joanne has got the wrong end of the stick,’ I say in an attempt to placate Andrea.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  I’m about to defend Tris and Zoe, but I stop before I speak. What if there is some truth in it? The last thing I want is to admit to Andrea that she might be right, because if I do, then that means I also have to admit to her that there’s some truth in what happened between Darren and Ruby. I choose my next words carefully. ‘I honestly think it’s Joanne getting everything out of proportion. Like she has with you and the gym, and the way she said I killed Darren. We both know that’s ridiculous. Maybe Tris and Zoe flirted a couple of times and Joanne saw them and read more into it.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ says Andrea. She rubs her forehead with her fingers. ‘I’m so tired. I probably shouldn’t have had that last vodka.’

  ‘Shouldn’t have had the last three vodkas, more like.’

  She stands and wobbles slightly on her feet. ‘You know Tris would never leave Joanne, even if he was having an affair with Zoe.’

  ‘Shh, keep your voice down.’ I glance towards the door, which is slightly ajar, and hope Zoe is fast asleep. ‘No, I don’t think he would either. They’ve been together a long time.’

  ‘You know as well as I do, that doesn’t mean anything.’ Andrea gives me a look. ‘But you’re right, Tris wouldn’t leave Joanne. Because, no matter what his feelings are for Zoe, his feelings for money are stronger.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s surprising what you hear at the gym,’ says Andrea, whose speech is remarkably coherent, considering her earlier vodka intake. She plonks herself down on the end of my bed and leans over. ‘I heard two guys from the bank talking. They were in the coffee bar and I was in my office, but had the little fanlight open above my desk which happens to open right above where these guys were talking. Anyway, one of them was saying how much debt Tris was in with the bank and the other was saying how much money Joanne had. Obviously not enough to buy the gym with me, but a fair sum. They said that Tris would have to persuade Joanne to bail him out.’

  ‘So, why didn’t Tris ask her to help him? Surely she would?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Joanne was making him sweat on it. It’s the sort of thing she’d do purely for the sadistic pleasure she’d get from it.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ I say with a sigh.

  ‘What if Tris was only staying with Joanne because leaving her would be too expensive? What if he and Zoe are having an affair? What if Zoe loves him but he doesn’t love her enough to leave the security of his family?’

  ‘Andrea, stop. You’re rambling. You’ve had too much to drink,’ I say. ‘I’ve honestly had enough of all this. You need some sleep. We all do.’ I pull the duvet up and snuggle down. ‘Go to bed.’

  Andrea makes a few protests, accusing me of being a misery. While she fumbles around getting ready for bed, I can hear her muttering to herself. I can’t understand what she’s saying but I can hear Zoe’s name being mentioned every now and then and it’s clear whatever is being said isn’t favourable.

  Andrea makes it successfully to bed and after about ten minutes her breathing regulates and deepens as she finally succumbs to sleep. I, on the other hand, am now wide awake. Despite Andrea being worse for wear, her accusations fill my head. Is she right about Tris and Zoe? Has Tris got money worries? Is that why he stayed with Joanne?’

  Inevitably, my mind turns to Darren and Ruby. I always thought Joanne believed Darren’s version of events, just as I had. Now I wonder if I’d got that wrong. What had happened to make her think differently?

  I have no answers. Nothing makes sense.

  My mind makes the jump from Darren and Ruby to Alfie. It’s a never-ending loop. One always leads to the other. Not always in the same order, but always those three. I think of how much Alfie has gone through.

  Did it all start with Ruby? Were our lives destined to play out the way they have right from the start, all those years ago when I first met Joanne, when she and Tris had got married and Darren and I were dating? We’d met through the hiking club Joanne and I were members of. If I hadn’t joined, I would never have met Joanne. Would that have meant that none of the trouble with Ruby would have happened? Would Alfie still be the confident, happy-go-lucky teenager I always thought he was?

  How far would I have to turn the clock back to stop the chain of events?

  And now, after all that, after everything that has happened between our two families, Alfie is finding comfort in the Aldridge household. That hurts. I’m his mother and I want to be the one to comfort him, the one he turns to when things get too hard. Alfie and I have a shared tragedy and yet he doesn’t want me. Every day I feel he’s moving further and further away from me.

  Tears prick my eyes. This is no good. I can’t cope with these thoughts at the best of times. Thinking about the disintegration of my relationship with my only child in the middle of the night, stuck in a croft, God knows where, while Joanne lies dead, wrapped in a duvet in the shed, is not a good idea.

  I skulk my way round the end of the bed, grabbing my jumper on the way, and slip out of the room. I pause on the landing to pull my jumper over my head and wish I’d grabbed a pair of socks but don’t want to go back in and risk waking Andrea.

  It’s then I realise I can hear a voice coming from downstairs. It’s only a low murmur, but definitely someone speaking. Zoe must be downstairs. Who the hell is she talking to? Maybe she’s found the phones.

  Excited by this prospect, I take the stairs light-footedly and head for the kitchen. When I reach the dining room I see that the door to the kitchen is closed. The handle squeaks as I pull on it.

  Zoe jumps and lets out a squeal. ‘Oh God, Carys!’ she gasps, her hand flying to her throat. ‘You scared the life out of me.’

  ‘Sorry, I was coming down for a glass of water. Who were you talking to?’ It’s then I notice Zoe is holding something in her other hand which she is shielding with her leg.

  ‘I … er … I found this,’ she says, holding out her hand. ‘It’s a walkie-talkie.’

  ‘Where did you find that?’ I move swiftly to her side and take the handset. ‘Does it work? Have you been able to speak to anyone?’

  ‘No. I don’t even know if it’s working.’

  The hope that was rising within me dies instantly. ‘Where was it?’

  ‘At the back of the pantry. I couldn’t sleep after the things Andrea said, so I thought I might as well get up and have another look
for the phones.’

  ‘You haven’t found them?’

  ‘No. Only this. I had a go at twiddling with the knob there to tune it in, or whatever you do with a walkie-talkie, but it’s stuck.’

  I try to move the dial but it won’t budge. ‘What were you doing then, just holding the button and speaking?’

  Zoe nods. ‘Yeah, I didn’t know what else to do.’

  I depress the button on the side and hold it down. I put the handset to my mouth. ‘Hello? Hello? Can anybody hear me?’

  ‘Release the button now,’ says Zoe.

  We wait for a reply but can only hear static. ‘What is it with the bloody radios around here?’ I say in frustration. ‘First the CB won’t work and now this.’

  ‘I suppose there has to be someone on the other end to hear us. I don’t even know how far this thing works.’ Zoe runs her hand through her hair. ‘I want to go home. I wish we’d never come.’

  ‘Hey, hey, don’t be upsetting yourself,’ I say, putting an arm around her shoulder. ‘Hang in there for a few more hours. As soon as it’s light, we’re getting out of here. I promise.’

  ‘You sound like some sort of action hero.’

  ‘Let’s give this thing another go,’ I say, hoping I sound upbeat. ‘Hello? Can anybody hear me? We need help. It’s an emergency.’ I stop speaking and look at Zoe. She motions for me to try again. ‘This is an emergency. Is there anyone there?’ I release the button and we both lean closer to the handset. Suddenly, the crackle is disrupted and we hear a voice speaking to us.

  ‘Hello. This is the park ranger station. We can hear you. Can you hear us? Over.’

  We both give a squeal of excitement. ‘Hello. We can hear you. Over.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ The Scottish accent is distinguishable, despite the transmission breaking up slightly.

  ‘No! We’re on holiday. Staying in a holiday home. There’s been an accident. We need help. We need the police. Over.’ I don’t know how much to say over the airwaves. The relief is flooding through me. We are speaking to someone. We are not alone.

  ‘Are your injuries serious? Over.’

  I look at Zoe before replying. ‘Yes. Someone has … has died. Over.’

  ‘Can you repeat that, please? Over.’

  ‘Our friend has had an accident and she’s dead.’ I can feel a lump in my throat. ‘Please can you send someone to help us. We’re stuck in this croft and need help. Over.’ My voice breaks at this point as the emotion and enormity of what has happened suddenly seem much more real now that I’m say-ing the words to someone else.

  ‘How many of you are there? Over.’

  ‘Three. Over.’

  ‘And are you safe? Is anyone else injured? Over.’

  ‘We’re safe. No other injuries. Over.’

  ‘OK. I’ll contact the police as soon as I can. They will send someone out to you. You need to stay where you are until then. Over.’

  ‘What time will that be? Over.’ I grasp Zoe’s hand and nod. Everything is going to be all right.

  ‘I can’t say exactly. But someone will be with you as soon as they can. Over.’

  My initial excitement is dulled. I want someone out here now. ‘You did hear me, that there’s been a death? Over.’

  ‘Aye, I did. I’m sure the police will make this a priority,’ he replies. ‘Now, I don’t want to scare you, but you need to make sure all the doors are locked. There’s been a few break-ins of holiday homes recently. Lock the doors and stay inside. Do you understand? Over.’

  ‘Understood. Over.’ I don’t bother to explain that’s exactly what we have done.

  ‘Good. I’ll keep you up to date. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll be in touch. Keep the radio with you. Understood? Over.’

  ‘Understood. Over.’

  ‘OK. Don’t worry, help is on the way. Over and out.’

  The crackling sound is back and the ranger has gone.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ says Zoe. ‘You don’t know how happy I am. I could bloody cry.’

  ‘I wonder if this is the walkie-talkie Joanne had on the walk. Maybe she hid it in the pantry for some reason. What luck, you finding this.’

  Zoe takes the handset and turns it in her hand. ‘It must be set to this channel on purpose. It must be the emergency channel to the park ranger. I reckon it has to be the one Joanne said she had.’ She slips the walkie-talkie into her pocket. ‘I’ll take it up with me in case he calls us.’

  ‘Perhaps now I’ll be able to sleep,’ I say, taking a glass and filling it from the tap. ‘You should try to get some sleep too. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait long before help arrives.’

  We make our way upstairs and say goodnight to each other on the landing.

  Andrea is still fast asleep when I enter the bedroom. She doesn’t look like she’s moved. I pause to check her breathing and, satisfied she’s OK, I climb into my bed.

  As I rest my head on the pillow and replay the conversation with the ranger in my mind, I feel I am missing something but can’t think what. My mind wanders into an uneasy sleep, one where I wake several times and, without making a conscious effort, recall the conversation again. Still I can’t work out what is bothering me.

  Chapter 20

  The remainder of the night stretches into a pattern of waking, thinking and drifting into a half-sleep as I monitor the digital display on the bedside clock. At six, I give in and decide to get up. Andrea hasn’t stirred at all in the night despite my tossing and turning. The weather has taken a turn and in the early hours of the morning I could hear the wind pick up and rain splatter against the window panes.

  In the kitchen I flick the kettle on to boil. The rain is steady and I wonder how long we will have to wait before the police turn up. Will they believe what’s happened? What will they make of the notebook and its contents? I don’t want them digging up the past and asking awkward questions. Maybe for all our sakes it would be best if they didn’t know about the notebook.

  ‘Morning.’ Andrea shuffles into the room. She comes over and gives me a hug. ‘I was hoping yesterday was a bad dream.’

  ‘Me too.’ I return the hug and fight to stop myself welling up. ‘You’re up early,’ I say, pulling away from the hug. ‘You want a cup of tea or coffee?’

  ‘That would be great, thanks.’ Andrea sits down at the table in the dining room. ‘I feel like I drank a bottle of vodka last night.’

  ‘Very nearly. You were knocking it back,’ I reply, taking two cups from the cupboard. ‘While you were playing Sleeping Beauty, Zoe and I managed to make contact with the outside world.’

  Andrea frowns and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. ‘What?’

  ‘Zoe found a walkie-talkie and we managed to speak to the park ranger. He’s putting a call in to the police.’ The kettle rumbles to a boil and I make the drinks.

  ‘Run that by me again.’

  ‘Zoe found a walkie-talkie in the pantry and we managed to get it working. Help is on its way as we speak.’ I pass the coffee cup to Andrea.

  ‘Did you tell them about Joanne?’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t go into detail, just that there had been a fatal accident. I wanted them to know that the call was serious and we need help ASAP.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘He told us to sit tight and wait for the police. I was hoping they’d have turned up by now.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. I didn’t fancy hiking out in this weather. And that’s not simply because of the hangover,’ says Andrea.

  A clatter on the stairs and a cry of pain, followed by a distinct thud, cuts through our conversation. We both race from the kitchen, through the dining room and into the hall.

  Zoe is on the floor, her left ankle clasped between her two hands. ‘Aghhh, my ankle!’ she cries, scrunching her eyes tight shut but unable to prevent a few tears escaping.

  ‘Oh my God, Zoe! Are you OK?’ I drop to my knees beside her.

  ‘I fell down the stairs,’
she says. ‘I’ve twisted my ankle. It’s killing me.’

  ‘Let me have a look,’ I say, gently moving her hands away. I carry out a visual inspection of her bare ankle but can’t see any obvious signs of injury. ‘I need to run my hands down your leg and ankle. Where exactly does it hurt?’

  ‘Here, under the bone,’ she says, indicating with her finger.

  As gently as I can, I check Zoe’s ankle and foot with my hands. She winces when I apply pressure to the area under the ankle bone and when I gently rotate her foot. ‘On a scale of one to ten, how painful are we talking?’ I ask.

  ‘About seven,’ she says. ‘You don’t think it’s broken, do you? That’s all we need.’

  ‘No. Although, it’s hard to say, I’m no expert. Andrea, grab a damp tea-towel and some ice. Then we need to get you in the living room, with your foot elevated. It will help reduce the swelling. What did you do, miss a step?’

  ‘No. I fell over this.’ Zoe reaches behind her. ‘Your boot. It was on the third stair up. I didn’t see it until the last minute and tried to avoid it.’

  ‘What was it doing on the stair?’

  ‘I guess that’s where you left it.’

  ‘I didn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t have.’ I look round at the footwear lined up under the coat pegs. ‘Look, there’s my other one. Someone must have moved it. Andrea, did you notice my boot when you came down?’

  Andrea shrugs. ‘Can’t say I did, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. I’m not properly awake yet.’ She rubs her head with her fingertips. ‘Hanging a bit here this morning.’

  ‘And it was definitely on the stair?’ I ask Zoe.

  ‘Let’s not have an inquest now,’ says Andrea as Zoe insists it was. ‘Shall we get Zoe into the living room and I’ll fetch the ice.’

  I take the boot and put it with the other one, a little peeved that the blame seems to be heading my way for leaving the boot there. I definitely put it with the other one. I’m sure. At least, I think I’m sure.

  We settle Zoe in the living room and I apply the makeshift ice-pack Andrea managed to put together. ‘It doesn’t look like it’s swelling,’ I say, inspecting it. ‘Hopefully, it’s only a slight sprain.’