The Birthday Girl

by Sue Fortin

  ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to dictate the rules,’ says Zoe. ‘Anyway, back to our game. What do you think happened next?’

  ‘I … I don’t know.’

  Zoe gives an exaggerated look up to the ceiling in exasperation. ‘It’s no fun if you don’t even guess.’

  I can’t take any more of this bullshit from Zoe. She’s toying with me and has no intention of letting me live. Not now she’s confessed all. I have one last chance to save myself. If I can get her close enough to aim a kick to her face, hard enough to knock her out, then I reckon I can swing my leg out and reach the bookcase. If I can twist myself round and keep my balance I ought to be able to maintain enough slack in the rope to get it off my head.

  All I need is to get her close to me, and the only way she’s going to do that is if she wants to take the chair out from under me. It’s a gamble, but I realise no one else is coming to my rescue.

  ‘You know what, Zoe, you can go fuck yourself with your stupid game. I’m not playing any more and I don’t give a shit what you do about it.’

  ‘Well, my dear friend, you’re the one who looks fucked to me. And I don’t mean in the carnal sense either.’

  Chapter 38

  ‘How’s it going up there?’ asks Zoe, leaning against the hall table and looking up at me. She’s been standing there watching me for several minutes. ‘I hope all this hanging around isn’t getting too boring for you?’ She laughs at her own sadistic joke.

  ‘You know I sent a copy of those text messages to my own phone,’ I say. I’m grasping at straws now. My feet are tottering on the top of the chair. I look at Zoe, willing her to believe me. ‘I sent them to Seb as well.’

  Zoe cocks her head to one side and flicks Alfie’s mobile phone from one hand to the other. ‘Did you now? And I’m supposed to believe that? I can easily check the phone and see what messages have gone out.’

  Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. My plan to entice Zoe over to me so I can attempt to free myself isn’t working. If only Mum wasn’t stuck in that bloody traffic jam or I’d taken Seb up on his offer to stay. A tear escapes from my eye and rolls down my face.

  ‘Oh dear, Carys. Don’t cry,’ says Zoe. ‘You know you could always kick that chair away and it would all be over in a few seconds. You wouldn’t have to hang around for much longer.’ Again, she laughs. ‘Go on, Carys. Do it.’

  She pushes herself away from the table and for a moment I think she’s going to either kick the chair away or come close enough for my foot to make contact with her face. I need to kick her hard. On the side of the head. I read somewhere the temple is a weak point. If I can stun her, maybe I can whip this noose off. A few seconds, that’s all I need.

  Zoe’s attention is drawn to something outside. She stands in the doorway to the living room and peers around the corner of the door. Is it Mum? Do I try to free myself now or call out to Mum? If there’s no one there and I start shouting, Zoe is bound to put the tape over my mouth again. My moment of indecision costs me. Zoe rushes over to me, but the space between us is still too great a span for my reach.

  ‘Keep your mouth shut, otherwise, I promise, I’ll pull this chair right out from under you.’ She gives the chair a kick, causing it to wobble. ‘Make a sound and that’s your lot. By the time whoever it is gets in here, you’ll be doing the perfect impersonation of Darren.’

  I let out a whimper. ‘Please, Zoe. Stop this now.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  My left leg begins to shake involuntarily and I struggle to keep my balance. My hands are clasped around the rope above the noose, taking some of the weight from my feet, but my arms are hurting from being above my head and the lack of blood flow is causing my muscles to burn, making it increasingly difficult to maintain this position. My spine is being stretched to full capacity and my shoulder blades are searing with pain.

  There’s a rapping of knuckles on the door, followed immediately by three insistent rings of the doorbell, the last held down for several seconds. Through the distorted glass of the door, I can see the indistinct figures of two people.

  ‘Carys! Are you there? It’s the police.’

  An enormous shock wave of relief floods through me. The police are here. They can rescue me. I look down at Zoe. She gives a warning look. I must make the decision now. I don’t have time to dwell on it. I might never get this opportunity again. The police may turn and leave and then what? Zoe will be rattled, but she’ll carry out her plan to make my death look like suicide. I’m not bloody well going to give her the satisfaction.

  I close my eyes, tighten my grip on the rope and brace myself before shouting as loud as I possibly can.

  ‘HELP! HELP ME!’

  ‘You stupid fucking bitch!’ hisses Zoe, and she pushes the chair away.

  She’s not quick enough, I have already committed myself to pushing off as much as I can with my tiptoes and swinging my leg over to the bookcase. The weight of my body is immense and as my feet frantically try to make contact with the bookcase, I realise I won’t be able to hold myself for more than a second or two.

  Somewhere in the midst of it all, I am fleetingly aware that Zoe has run towards the kitchen. I’m on my own. No one can save me other than myself.

  My toe catches the edge of the bookcase. The rope is digging deeper into my neck and I can feel the power in my arms beginning to fail.

  The police officer is banging on the door again. Shouting my name. I try to reply but my airways are being crushed and only a rasping noise comes out. I’ve managed to get a foot on the bookcase, but it’s not enough. I need to try to get my other foot on there and swing my body round. Have I misjudged the length of the rope or, more importantly, my own stamina and body strength? My vision begins to blur, my peripheral vision disappearing as I head down a silent black hole, my arms dropping to my side and my feet slipping from the bookcase.

  And then I am weightless. I’m floating.

  ‘Cut her down, for God’s sake!’

  The voice penetrates my thoughts. Suddenly, I’m aware of arms around my body. Holding me up. The pressure is instantly relieved from my throat. I open my eyes but my vision is bleary. And then I am being lifted down. My feet touch the ground, but I have no feeling and cannot hold myself up.

  ‘Set her down on the floor.’ I think it’s the same voice who was shouting through the door to me. ‘And get that fucking rope off her neck.’

  ‘Someone radio for an ambulance.’ A female this time.

  As the rope is removed from my neck, I feel a rush of air to my lungs. It makes me cough violently as I wheeze for breath and for a moment I wonder if I’m going to choke despite being rescued. The coughing subsides and I take deep breaths, filling my lungs and brain with much-needed oxygen. I put my hand to my neck, which is sore to the touch, and when I withdraw my fingers, the tips feel sticky.

  ‘Try not to touch your neck,’ says the female officer kneeling beside me. ‘The skin has been broken a little. The paramedics will clean it up when they get here.’

  The sound of raised voices and scuffling is coming from the kitchen. I turn my head towards the door. I blink. I must be seeing things. I blink again. No, it’s not my imagination. Zoe is lying face down on the floor and Seb is sitting on top of her, holding her hands while another officer handcuffs her.

  ‘Zoe Coleman, I am arresting you on suspicion of the attempted murder of Carys Montgomery. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you say may be given in evidence.’ Seb’s voice comes out loud and clear.

  I almost cry in relief as I hear Seb arrest Zoe. I cough and roll over on to my side so I can sit up.

  The police officer eyes me carefully. ‘You OK?’ she asks. ‘I’m fine. Just need to sit up.’

  And then Seb is by my side. He holds me tightly. ‘Thank God we got here in time.’ He inspects my neck and his unchecked wince tells me it must look quite
nasty.

  ‘I’m fine. Honestly.’

  Seb helps me to my feet and sits me on the chair. The noose sprawls on the floor next to me. Seb kicks it away with his foot.

  He puts a protective arm around me and one of the uniformed officers leads Zoe out of the house and into a police squad car whose arrival was announced by sirens and two-tone blue lights bouncing through the open front door.

  ‘What made you come back?’ I ask. ‘How did the police know to come here?’

  ‘It was down to luck,’ says Seb. ‘When I left you earlier, as I came to the junction at the end of your road this bloody hatchback turned in, taking the corner so wide that I had to swerve to avoid hitting them. I didn’t get a chance to see who it was before they sped off down the road. Anyway, I didn’t think any more of it at the time, but when I stopped for coffee I thought I’d give the local nick a call and see what the latest was,’ explains Seb. ‘Turns out they had put out an APB on a blue Fiesta registered to Zoe Coleman. Apparently, there’s been a major development in Joanne’s case and Zoe was to be held for questioning until DCI Chilton got here. He’s on his way now.’

  ‘I still don’t understand, what made you turn around?’

  ‘I was rattled. I knew from bumping into Zoe at the hospital with you yesterday that she was shifting the suspicion to you. And what with the Fiesta that nearly took me out, it sent all sorts of alarm bells ringing.’

  ‘So, you told the police about the near miss in the car?’

  ‘Yeah. I tried to call you, but your phone was switched off.’

  ‘Zoe must have done that.’

  ‘I rang the house phone too, but that just rang and rang.’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

  Seb picks up the house phone and inspects the receiver. ‘It’s on silent, that’s why.’

  ‘Zoe,’ I mutter.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt.’ We both look up and a paramedic is coming through the door. ‘We need to get you to hospital for a check-up.’

  ‘I don’t need to go. I’m all right,’ I say.

  ‘You most certainly do need to go,’ says Seb. ‘Look, I’ve got to go down to the station and hand Zoe over. There’s some paperwork to take care of, but I’ll come and see you as soon as I can. I’m guessing one of the local officers will be along to take an initial statement from you.’

  ‘I’m becoming an old hand at this statement-giving lark. Unfortunately.’ I let out a sigh.

  Seb walks me out to the waiting ambulance. ‘I’ll get hold of your mum too.’

  As I climb into the ambulance, I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done to deserve such a loyal and caring man as Seb. If he knew the truth about me, I’m not sure he’d want to hang around. As the doors close and the engine starts, I shut my eyes and play out the possible reactions to Seb finding out the truth. None of them are in my favour.

  Chapter 39

  By the time Seb finally gets to the hospital, I’ve given my preliminary statement to the police, been seen by A&E and told I’m allowed to go home.

  ‘Sorry it took longer than I expected,’ says Seb. He sits down in the chair next to me. ‘Those developments I mentioned earlier, I’m not sure of the detail, but Chilton is on his way down from Scotland and is going to charge Zoe with Joanne’s murder. Or, so I’ve heard.’

  ‘If I hadn’t heard it from her myself, I’m still not sure I’d believe she was responsible,’ I say.

  ‘It won’t entirely rest on your statement, but it will certainly add weight.’

  ‘Do you know what the other evidence is?’

  ‘I don’t know the details, but they’ve got some forensic evidence linking her to the murder weapon.’

  I sense Seb’s hesitation and guess he’s probably holding back on the detail, trying to protect me. ‘Tell me. I’ll find out sooner or later.’

  ‘She used a lump of wood to hit Joanne on the head,’ he says carefully. ‘They found traces of blood matching Joanne’s DNA on the wood and a fibre which matched a jumper of Zoe’s.’

  ‘That was a stroke of luck.’

  Seb nods. ‘It happens like that sometimes. It also helps that Tris has decided to save his own arse and cooperate with the police.’

  ‘To be fair, I don’t think Zoe planned it. And I don’t think Tris had any idea what she was up to.’

  There’s a silence that follows and I sense that Seb wants to say something else, but is working out how to do so. Eventually, he speaks. ‘The police found a mobile phone in Zoe’s holdall that she had at your house. You don’t know anything about it, do you?’

  ‘A mobile phone? No. Why would I?’ I nearly choke on my lie.

  ‘She had two phones on her. Unregistered. There’s a text message conversation between the two.’

  ‘Oh?’ I keep my voice level.

  ‘The tech guys are going to run a cell-site analysis on them. See if they can work out where they’ve been used, that sort of thing.’

  I want to tell Seb the truth but something is stopping me. If I tell him, then I’ll have to confess to Alfie being involved. Then they’ll start asking questions and I don’t know if I can keep my nerve. Chilton has already questioned me about the blood on the paddle. I’m sure he has suspicions about my version of events as to what happened in the kayak with Alfie.

  ‘You know they’ll be able to track back and find out when and where the phone has been used.’ Seb speaks gently, all the time holding my hand and stroking my palm with his thumb.

  I look at Seb. I don’t want another relationship based on lies, but if I do as he’s asking the whole world will know how my own son hated me so much, how I was blind to the truth about Darren and Leah Hewitt, how I dismissed claims about Ruby and Darren, and how I taunted my husband and encouraged him to take his own life, even if it wasn’t my intention.

  I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. I’m tired. So very tired. Maybe I should just let the truth come out. Or at least some of it.

  ‘The phone was Alfie’s. I took it from the croft. I sent those replies. Zoe thought she was texting Alfie.’ Seb nods. He doesn’t look surprised. ‘You’d worked it out,’ I say.

  ‘I did wonder. Don’t be frightened, Carys. I know how much this hurts you, but it’s not Alfie that will be on trial, it will be Zoe. Alfie had nothing to do with Joanne’s murder or what happened here today.’

  I feel a sense of relief that I have told Seb almost everything. I let him lead me out to the car. ‘I don’t want to go home,’ I say as I fasten the seatbelt. ‘Not tonight. I don’t think I can face it.’

  ‘No problem. We’ll find a hotel room. I’ll give your mum a call and let her know what’s going on. She wanted to see you tonight, but I managed to put her off until tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll give her a call. Tomorrow, can you take me to see Alfie?’

  ‘Sure.’

  The doctors tell me Alfie’s condition has stabilised with no sign of improvement. They use the term ‘unresponsive wakefulness syndrome’, which is a new name for being in a vegetative state. He has lost awareness of himself and his external surroundings.

  ‘I’m sorry, we can’t tell you any more than that right now,’ says the doctor.

  I thank her and she leaves me and Seb alone in the medical room with Alfie.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ says Seb.

  ‘I need a few minutes alone with Alfie,’ I say.

  ‘Sure. I’ll wait for you in the coffee room.’ He kisses my cheek before leaving.

  I move closer to Alfie. He is breathing on his own but is wired up to monitors and other medical equipment.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alfie,’ I whisper, taking his hand and holding it in mine. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to bring you up to know right from wrong, that I wasn’t able to steer you along the path to happiness. But most of all I’m sorry I left you in this state.’ I wipe the tears from my cheeks. ‘I never knew you had heard me that morning when I argued with your dad. I never meant what I said. It was in
the heat of the moment. I never for one moment believed he would carry out his threat. He’d threatened me before and I thought I’d call his bluff. I got that so very wrong. If I could turn back time, I’d give anything to change what I said that morning. I truly would.’

  For a second, I think I see Alfie’s eyes flutter. I freeze, studying his face intently, looking for any movement of his lashes, a twitch from his face, even a small movement of a finger. Anything to let me know that he’s heard me. That he can forgive me. Have my words been able to penetrate the barrier in his mind that is preventing communication?

  ‘I hope you can forgive me, Alfie. We have both done things we wouldn’t have normally done. I forgive you. I forgive you for trying to kill me in the kayak. I know you were suffering, have been suffering for so long, and you haven’t been able to think straight. I never wanted it to end this way. Never.’ I lean over and kiss Alfie’s forehead. ‘I wish things had been different, my darling. I’m so sorry.’

  I find Seb sitting in the coffee room as he said he would. He’s been an absolute rock to me and I don’t know how I would have managed without him. He slips his phone into his pocket. ‘That was your mum,’ he says, standing up and placing a guiding hand on my shoulder. ‘She’s going to meet us at the hotel.’

  ‘Thanks, I appreciate that.’ When I spoke with Mum earlier today, I let her talk me into going to stay with her for a few days. The police have finished gathering evidence from my house but I still don’t want to go back there. I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll feel able to. It’s the house where my husband killed himself and the house where my so- called friend tried to kill me. The house represents sadness, anger and danger.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ says Seb.

  I offer Seb a smile. ‘I’ll miss you too but it’s only for a couple of weeks. Once you’ve got some leave, I’ll come up and stay with you.’ Seb doesn’t challenge me about this and how I’ll be able to leave Alfie; perhaps he thinks I’ll change my mind before then.