The Birthday Girl

by Sue Fortin

  I take a moment to process this latest development. How or why Alfie’s here is, on the scale of things, unimportant. All I can think of now is that he’s with Tris, and my mind is filled with thoughts of his safety. ‘But you’re OK? I mean, really OK?’ Will he pick up on what I’m asking? I can’t think of any secret code I can apply.

  ‘Yeah, sure, Mum. I’m fine,’ he replies.

  I listen hard for any inflection in his voice, any telltale hint that he might not be fine, but I can’t hear any. He sounds pleasant and, if I’m honest, this is one of most civil conversations we’ve had in some time. Although, on second thoughts, I wonder if that in itself is the code? His usual grumpy grunting teenage self is conspicuous by its absence. Is he trying to tell me there is something wrong simply by pretending there isn’t? Not for the first time this weekend, my thoughts are going around in circles. I simply cannot think straight.

  ‘How did you get here?’ I ask, focusing on more practical aspects.

  Before Alfie can answer, Tris speaks. ‘Carys, we can chat about those sorts of details in the morning. I assume you are coming back here. You wouldn’t abandon Alfie, would you?’

  Too fucking right I wouldn’t. I stop myself from responding, for the first time grateful that the press-to-talk button gives me the second I need to compose myself. I don’t want Alfie to know I’m frightened. If I suddenly fly off the handle at Tris, it might provoke him into doing something rash. What that something might be, I don’t know.

  ‘Yes, I’ll be back tomorrow,’ I say, aware there is no other option. ‘But, Tris, I’m trusting you to look after Alfie for me. And, Zoe, if you can hear me, you will too, won’t you? You’ll look after him, like I’d look after one of yours?’

  I hope Zoe is listening. I might not be able to predict what Tris will do, but Zoe is my friend, and like me she is a mother, so surely she won’t let Tris do anything to harm Alfie.

  ‘Don’t be worrying now, Carys,’ says Tris. ‘We’ll look after Alfie for you. Won’t we, Zoe?’

  ‘Yes, Carys. You have my word.’ It’s Zoe’s voice, from somewhere in the background.

  ‘There, you have Zoe’s word,’ says Tris.

  ‘Do I have your word too?’ I have to ask. My mother-meter is going off the scale.

  ‘Of course you have my word too,’ says Tris. ‘Now, get some rest, you’ll need your energy for tomorrow. Make sure you’re here by eleven o’clock. No later.’

  ‘Or what?’

  There is silence from the handset. I’m not sure if Tris is still there. Then after a few seconds I hear his voice again. This time it is low and threatening.

  ‘Listen, Carys, don’t fucking mess with me. You get your arse back here in the morning.’

  ‘Now you wait a minute. Listen to yourself, Tris. What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘In case it’s escaped your memory, my wife is dead. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that your son is here. So don’t mess about.’ His breathing is heavy through the speaker and I hear a controlled, menacing tone to his voice. There’s an iciness to it I haven’t heard before and my skin prickles at the sound.

  My mind is immediately filled with images of Joanne lying outside the porch of the croft. Is it possible that her death wasn’t an accident? Is it a coincidence, Tris showing up? I have a sudden memory of Andrea telling me he was in financial difficulty. If he has been having an affair with Zoe, would both these things be enough to make him kill her?

  A wave of nausea hits me and I retch as my stomach convulses. Bile reaches my throat and I cough and splutter, forcing myself to swallow it down.

  My mind is reeling from the knowledge that Alfie is in that house with Tris. I need to get him out of there. And then there’s Andrea. I must think of a way to help her. God only knows how she’s bearing up.

  I consider setting off now, heading not for the croft but the village. I need to raise the alarm and get the police up to the croft as soon as possible.

  ‘Carys? Are you listening to me?’ Tris’s voice breaks my thoughts.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am listening, but hear what I have to say first,’ I reply. I can’t reconcile the Tris I’ve known for over twenty years with the Tris I have conjured up in my mind. The Tris who wanted me to hang myself. There must be a more logical explanation for his behaviour. ‘Joanne’s death – what if someone was with her when it happened but they didn’t mean for any harm to come to her?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  I swallow hard. ‘What if you killed Joanne by accident?’

  ‘Why the hell would I want to kill my wife?’

  ‘Not on purpose but by accident,’ I say. ‘I know about your affair with Zoe and the money problems. If you had an argument with her and it got out of hand, maybe her death was an accident.’ I’m aware that I’m throwing Tris a lifeline, but it’s not for his benefit as much as mine and Alfie’s. I don’t want to believe that he is capable of something like that, but if he is, then convincing him that I believe it was an accident might be my only hope of getting Alfie out of there.

  ‘You really are deranged. Joanne said you were on the verge of a breakdown. From what Zoe’s told me, you’re the one who had the argument with Joanne. You were the last one to see her alive. Anyway, we can sort this fucking mess out in the morning.’

  ‘OK. I promise I’ll be there. Let me speak to Alfie.’

  ‘Hang on a minute …’

  I assume Tris is returning to the room where he’s left Alfie. The next voice I hear is my son’s.

  ‘Mum? You OK? You are coming back tomorrow, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, sure I am.’ I inject a cheer into my voice I don’t feel.

  ‘Where exactly are you?’ says Alfie. ‘Why aren’t you here?’

  ‘I was … erm … hiking in the woods and got caught by the bad weather,’ I reply, thinking on my feet. I don’t know what Tris has told him. I mentally cross my fingers for luck and hope Alfie won’t ask about Andrea or Joanne. What can I say? I can’t say I think Tris is responsible for Joanne’s death. I don’t want to burden him with this suspicion. I err on the side of ignorance being bliss. ‘Look, love, I’d better go. I’m really tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Love you.’ I wait for a response. I can’t remember the last time Alfie told me he loved me. Was it the morning Darren committed suicide? Was it when he left for school that day, a happy, carefree young lad of fifteen? Was that the last time he paused halfway down the path, turned and waved, telling me he loved me too? He’d come home from school that day and his life had changed forever. As did our relationship. He hasn’t told me he loves me since that day.

  Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. He isn’t going to tell me now either. My heart cracks a little more. I wish I could take away his pain and fix him. I would give anything to have my happy, loving son back, but each day I fear he moves further towards the horizon, getting closer to the absolute event, the point of no return, when he will be lost forever.

  I don’t stop the tears. I need to let them fall. After everything that has happened this weekend, coupled with Alfie being here, I have to let that emotion out. I sink to my knees and howl, rocking to and fro, letting the tears run down my face, hoping they will somehow wash away the pain.

  Chapter 26

  Tris took the walkie-talkie from Alfie. ‘Well done.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Alfie sat down at the kitchen table, and twirled the spoon in his mug of hot chocolate.

  ‘We wait for your mum to come,’ said Tris.

  ‘And what have you told everyone at home?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Nothing. Just said I’d be staying at a mate’s house.’

  ‘And Colin didn’t mind?’ Zoe had switched to mum mode and it was irritating Tris.

  ‘Leave the lad alone,’ he snapped. ‘He gets enough of this crap from his own mum, he doesn’t need it from you too.’

  ‘I can’t help it
,’ replied Zoe. ‘Sorry, Alfie. I know you’re nearly eighteen. I keep forgetting you’re one of the older ones in the year, whereas my Ben is one of the babies.’ She looked over at Tris. ‘August birthday.’

  ‘Ah, right, gotcha.’ He smiled at Zoe and motioned for her to go upstairs. ‘Erm, right, Alfie. You OK there for a while? I’m going to give Zoe a hand sorting the beds out.’

  ‘Oh, I can kip on the sofa,’ said Alfie. ‘To be honest, I don’t want to sleep in someone else’s bed, not without clean sheets anyway.’

  ‘Listen to you!’ Tris laughed. ‘You’ll be asking for Egyptian cotton sheets next.’ He gave the lad’s shoulder a squeeze. Maybe a little harder than necessary, but he wanted Alfie to know who was in charge. ‘OK, you stay here. I still need to sort a few things out.’

  They left Alfie in the kitchen listening to music on his iPod.

  ‘What the hell are we going to do now?’ hissed Zoe once they were in the bedroom.

  He put his finger to his lips and closed the door. ‘Keep it down,’ he said. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about anything. Alfie being here is working out well. He’s the one thing that will make Carys come back. We’ve got to get her to trust us. What sort of friends would we be, if we weren’t concerned for her?’

  ‘I’m not following.’ Zoe dropped down on to the bed and Tris sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Listen, I’ve got it all planned.’

  ‘You’re not going to do anything to hurt Alfie, are you?’ Zoe looked genuinely concerned and it reminded Tris of all the reasons he loved her. She was so much more sensitive, kind and loving than Joanne ever was. Zoe had a vulnerability about her that he’d never seen in his own wife. Joanne had never needed him. Sure, she had wanted him, but never needed anything. She was always self-sufficient, independent and capable. All the things that made him feel inadequate. No, Zoe brought out the best in him. She allowed him to be the man, to wear the trousers. She wanted looking after and he wanted to be the one to do it. He kissed the side of her head and she moved her face up to him, their lips meeting.

  Zoe pulled away first. ‘I do love you,’ she said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  Tris side-stepped the pang of guilt. He held his hand to Zoe’s face as if drawing on her inner strength. ‘Yes, I know that. And I love you too. Very much.’

  ‘What happened with Joanne, I know it’s truly awful,’ said Zoe, her eyes firmly fixed on his, ‘but, in a way, it’s a good thing.’ He felt her jaw move against his hand as she swallowed hard. ‘I mean, something good can come out of something bad, can’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, sure it can.’ He kissed the top of her head again, breaking eye contact and, thereby, negating the possibility his doubt might be seen on his face.

  ‘I hope Carys doesn’t fuck everything up for us,’ said Zoe, with uncharacteristic bitterness. ‘She might tell the police that one of us killed Joanne. You can bet that’s what she’s thinking, why else would she have run away?’

  ‘She won’t. Look, Carys was the last person to see Joanne alive. She has the motive and the opportunity. She’s on the back foot here.’ Tris pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tight in a bid to quell his emotions over his wife’s death.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Zoe. ‘Come on, Tris. Keep it together.’

  ‘Yeah. Sure. I’m OK.’ He dragged his hand down his face and as he opened his eyes, his attention was caught by the objects on the dressing table: three mobile phones, lined up alongside each other on a blue cloth bag. ‘What are they?’ he asked, nodding in the direction of the dressing table.

  ‘Er … mobile phones?’ Zoe replied, hanging a questioning inflection on the last word.

  Tris threw a scowl her way before speaking. ‘Whose are they?’

  ‘Mine, Carys’s and Andrea’s. We had to hand them over when we were first picked up. Joanne said she was keeping hold of them so we couldn’t use the map app to pinpoint our location.’

  ‘Where did you find them?’

  ‘In her bedside drawer. I had a look earlier. I didn’t tell the others though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Zoe shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I was frightened after what happened to Joanne. I thought one of them might be up to something. I didn’t know who to trust.’

  Tris eyed Zoe speculatively. He couldn’t follow her reasoning but decided to let it drop for now. ‘Best put them back where you found them. We’ll leave them there for the police to find. You can tell them how frustrated Carys was about not having her phone.’

  ‘That’s actually true,’ said Zoe. ‘She did tell Joanne she wanted her phone, but Joanne wouldn’t hear of it.’

  ‘Make sure you tell that to the police. They need to know how upset and frustrated Carys was about the no-phone policy. That she was clearly agitated and frustrated by Joanne’s behaviour.’

  ‘I wish I’d gone downstairs and broken the argument up, then none of this would have happened,’ said Zoe, putting her arms around him. ‘You could have left Joanne, but instead you’re having to deal with her death. I’m so sorry for you.’

  Tris took a moment to compose himself. He was finding it hard to process the welter of conflicting emotions. At no point had he told Zoe he was going to leave Joanne. To do so would have been financial suicide. But now that she was dead, he stood to benefit from the insurance as well as the funds in her personal bank account. He clasped Zoe’s hands, taking in her delicate features which had always seemed somehow at odds with her toned body and above-average height. ‘Things don’t always go to plan, Zoe. We have to adapt and make the best out of a bad situation. What was it you said, something good out of something bad …?’

  MONDAY

  Chapter 27

  Through sheer exhaustion, both physically and mentally, I find myself nodding off into a light and uneasy sleep which lasts for only a short while before I jolt awake. Immediately, the fear returns and I curl up in a ball on the wooden slatted bed and, once again, go over my plan for the morning.

  When the craggy fingers of dawn find their way through the trees and slip through the window of the bothy, fear and anticipation battle within me at what I have to do.

  Alfie is my priority. I need to get him away from Tris before I do anything else. Thoughts of Andrea’s well-being are not far behind and I wonder what sort of night she’s had. I hope she was able to protect herself from the overnight rain? Is she warm enough? I hope she’s coping with the pain of her injury. ‘I’ll come for you as soon as I can, Andrea. I promise,’ I say out loud. There’s no one to hear my promise, but I offer it up to the little bothy all the same.

  I unfold myself and, with the blanket still around me, move over to the fire which has long since died out. It was enough though to dry my clothes. I dress quickly and hope I’ll start to feel warmer once I’m on the move.

  It should be easy tracking along the water’s edge, but I need to make sure I recognise the spot where I fell. Once up the side of the hill, I’ll have to rely on luck and judgement to find my way.

  It has been raining in the night and the going is slippery and wet. It takes me longer than I feel it should and I check my watch regularly to give me an indication of pace. Yesterday, while I had been hiding from Tris, I’d checked my watch and noted the time, which I also did when I arrived at the bothy. I estimate that, yesterday, I walked for approximately ninety minutes. If I pick up my pace and keep an eye on the time, that will give me a good indication of when I’ve reached the point where I fell.

  I’ve only been tramping through the forest for about twenty minutes when the rain comes again. For goodness’s sake, how much rain can one place get? I pull the zip up high on my jacket, which I’m still wearing inside out, and hope it will only be a small shower.

  As it turns out, I don’t need to worry about timing myself to where I fell. A little over an hour later, I spot the rock where I hid from Tris yesterday. All I have to do now is make it up to the top of the embankment.
r />   Climbing is hard work. The rain-drenched ground offers little purchase and my feet keep slipping as I scramble to pull myself up over moss-covered rocks. It’s only by luck that I missed these on my way down yesterday. Where the earth is bare, I kick toe-holes in with my boot to lever myself up. Finally, I drag myself over the top and on to the even ground.

  I roll on to my back to catch my breath. The branches sway in the wind, which has pushed the rain clouds away. The early- morning dawn has made way for sunlight; it punches its way through the gaps in the trees, warming the ground and releasing the aroma of damp earth and pine needles. In any other circumstances, it would be glorious to lie here, revelling in the peace and tranquillity. Funny to think that, before, I found comfort in the croft and fear from the forest. Now, it’s the other way around.

  Once I leave this forest, I will have all to play for.

  Eventually, I find myself at the edge of the forest behind the croft. Crouching low and using the trunk of a tree as cover, I look down at the building. My gaze rests momentarily on the shed and I think of Joanne, wondering how it has all come to this.

  I mustn’t lose focus. Whatever the reasons, Joanne is now dead and my own life is in danger, as is my son’s. The latter is the most pressing fear by far. Somehow I have to get Alfie out of there. We both need to get as far away from Tris as possible.

  With my jacket still inside out, I pull the hood up over my head. Then I check that the walkie-talkie’s volume is turned down; I don’t want to blow my cover this time. I survey the ground between my hiding place and the croft. The biggest open space is from the edge of the forest to the shed where the bicycle still rests. I estimate it to be approximately fifty metres. Being on higher ground, I’ll have the benefit of gravity; if I run in a direct line with the shed, keeping low, I’ll minimise the chances of being spotted. I just have to hope that neither Tris nor Zoe choose that moment to look out of the upstairs window.

  I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a second while I steel myself, and then with a quick glance around I burst out from the trees and into the open space beyond.