‘Shhh.’ John put his arm round her shoulder and held her tight. ‘We shouldn’t be talking about this here. We can’t let anyone hear us.’
‘But we need to talk about this. It’s… It’s really bad.’ Sandra was rummaging in her handbag and finally took out a crisp white handkerchief and brought it to her face. ‘How much do you think she suspects? How much will she recall? …Let’s meet up somewhere private, where we can talk.’
The words were out of Sandra’s mouth before she knew what she was saying. And as soon as she heard herself speak, she knew that her suggestion was not solely because of what they’d just heard. She wanted to see these people again, make sure they didn’t go in their different directions and lose touch again. She couldn’t bear that. Not when they had finally come together after all those years.
‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ John interjected. ‘You can come to my place.’
The others nodded, still standing on the pavement, huddled close together. Sandra found her head bobbing up and down in agreement.
John let go of Sandra and put his hand in his inside jacket pocket, taking out a slim silver case. ‘Here, take my card and send me an email with your contact details. I’ll set up a meeting,’ he said. ‘And please, no need to tell you, nothing about the thing on email or text or anything else. This is just a group of old friends meeting to catch up after all these years. Nobody needs to know any differently. Nobody!’
20
The mist had turned into a drizzle. Bea rummaged in her bag and took out her umbrella, opening it quickly. Her heart sank as the wind turned it inside out, rendering it useless. She closed it and put it away, knowing that it was going to soak everything else in her bag. Turning the collar of her coat upwards, she hurried her pace towards the office.
There had been a strange feeling in her stomach as she’d bid farewell to the others outside the police station. So different from the one she’d had as she’d walked in just over an hour earlier. Then apprehension had mingled with excitement at seeing her friends again. And things had been going well. Until DCI Hawkins had delivered the shocking news.
For years she’d worried that Miriam would regain her memory. That she’d start putting the pieces together: the ill health, the persistent tremble, the bruising, culminating with her suspicion on that final morning. Bea would physically have to shake the thought out of her head before the fear became too much for her to take. But as time went by she started to feel more secure that her past would never catch up with her. That the horrible thing they had all agreed to do, that they had done, would not be found out.
Until this morning. At first she’d thought she had misheard. Then, that perhaps the police were mistaken. So much time had passed. How could Miriam suddenly get her memory back? But as the reality started settling in, fear escalated. In the blink of an eye the future of all of them sitting round the table started looking precariously uncertain. This could be a disaster for them. Would Miriam’s suspicions be enough to trigger an investigation? Would they be the ones under the lens? Could this turn their lives, the ones they had worked so hard to build, upside down?
Any satisfaction that Ronnie Moss had been caught quickly ebbed. What good would it do to see him brought to justice if she and all the others were going to end up investigated?
Her breathing started coming in short pants. She felt light-headed. She stopped walking and leaned against a wall, steadying herself, forcing herself to take deep breaths, allowing them to fill her lungs. Slowly she started feeling better. More centred.
Only for a short while. Then, fear bubbled up in her again. They were never going to be free of Miriam. Just as she had haunted them when they were growing up, she would start again. She was holding them hostage, not allowing them to continue with their lives, instilling fear into their souls, making them constantly look over their shoulders, unsure what was in store for them, whether their dark secret was about to be uncovered.
Going back to the office was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had no choice. There was too much to do, work that had been piled on her desk. Paperwork that she had to go through and sign. Emails to return. Question after question from people who should already know the answers but wanted validation, someone else to tell them what to do. That job always seemed to fall to her.
Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly, realising just how fed up she’d become. Life should be more than going to the office and then going drinking in the evening. She wanted more. She was almost thirty-nine, and yet, it had been years since she’d had anything resembling a meaningful relationship. Anyone she’d ever come close to was not able to deal with her mood swings, her bouts of depressed quietness, the drinking that sometimes verged on excessive, until she didn’t know what she was doing, where she was, what she said. She should find a hobby, something to occupy her time, perhaps meet some people her own age. One of her colleagues had met her fiancé on Tinder. They were getting married in a few months; Bea had already received a Save The Date. Maybe she should give it a shot. She’d have to force herself not to be too picky.
Her phone rang. That thought would have to wait. Digging inside her bag, she rummaged round for her mobile. It never seemed to stay in the small pocket intended for it. Finally she found it and frowned as she saw Laurence’s name flash on the screen. Rolling her eyes, she answered.
‘Hello?’ She forced the irritation out of her voice and slowed her pace.
‘Where are you?’ He sounded cross, his voice high-pitched as it always got when he was panicking.
‘I had that meeting at the police station, remember?’ She was sure that he had forgotten, even though she’d told him yesterday, just before leaving the office, and sent him an email earlier to remind him. But she would bet anything that he hadn’t read it yet, might even be waiting for her to go through his emails, flag anything that was important. It was an arrangement that was starting to get old. She wasn’t his secretary. In the early days, when they’d first started the company, she’d prided herself on being the one to keep the wheels turning, making sure that everything went smoothly, that all their clients were happy. But the constant hand-holding of the person who should really be her boss was becoming tiring. As much as she loved her job, she needed a break, a few days off. Switch off her phone and let him fend for himself, see if he could keep the company from blowing up without her constant monitoring.
‘Yeah, yeah, of course I remember.’ He was lying, Bea could hear it in his voice, but bit her lip to stop herself from making any snide remarks. ‘What time will you be back?’
She was about to tell him that she was on her way, but as she looked about her, seeking an excuse, she spotted a Starbucks. She needed a few minutes to herself before getting back to the office. ‘The police want to speak with everyone individually,’ she lied. ‘It should be my turn soon, but I don’t know how much more I need to wait or how long that meeting will take.’ Her face reddened, the lie bothering her. ‘If you’d prefer, I can take an official holiday day. I still have quite a few left for this year.’
‘No, no.’ His voice sounded panicked. She smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t want her to stay away all day. He depended on her. That was why she had made the threat. ‘Take as much time as you need,’ he continued. ‘We’ll talk when you get back.’
The phone clicked and she put it back in her bag. Crossing the road, she headed into Starbucks, removing her damp coat and running her fingers through her moist hair.
‘A Venti Latte and a piece of marble cake.’ She could do with the sugar rush, a small pick-me-up. She nibbled at the cake while waiting for the coffee, her eyes skimming the room for the best seat, one that was as secluded as possible, away from the other coffee drinkers. A man got up from a corner table and she willed her coffee to be ready soon, before anyone else pounced onto what had already became ‘her’ table.
Nobody did. She sat with her back to the room. Her hands trembled holding the coffee mug. This day had started well. Seeing the
others, seeing how they had changed, evolved, was wonderful. It seemed that time had stood still, that, despite the years that had passed, they’d never been apart. ‘I’m so sorry about Seb,’ John had said as he’d held her close. She’d bitten her lip to stop herself from crying. She had lost a brother but John had lost his best friend. The two of them had always been together.
‘Thank God we have each other in this house full of women,’ Sebastian would often joke.
They had changed, and yet they were still the same. Despite the mature faces, the nice clothes, the sophisticated airs, at the first mention of Miriam, as soon as DCI Hawkins had told them that her memory was returning, they’d all had the same look in their eyes. Utter fear that they were on the brink of losing everything. Because although fate had taken them down different paths, their lives would always be intertwined, their future dependent on the woman who had made their childhood a living misery.
DCI Hawkins’ revelation had sucked the joy out of reconnecting with the others. Miriam is remembering. She’s remembering everything. She’s gonna tell everyone what we did. The thoughts kept going over in Bea’s head, making her heart thump, her head hurt.
How had she allowed this to happen? How had she got so comfortable in her life, thinking that Miriam’s memory loss was permanent?
As she sat in the coffee shop, taking one sip after the other, she felt any satisfaction that Ronnie Moss was finally being brought to justice start to evaporate, replaced by gut-wrenching fear of the hold Miriam still had on her life.
In truth, her detestation of Ronnie Moss had been dwindling for many years. Even right after the accident, as she’d lain in the hospital bed, missing Sebastian, terrified about her future, she’d known that the accident wasn’t completely his fault. She remembered the slight swerve. For years she had wondered whether they had caused the accident, if this had all been their fault. They’d never thought how the powder would affect her driving, that it might put their lives at risk. But she’d shake the thoughts away, focusing all her blame on Ronnie Moss. Everyone would understand her hatred of him.
And then the Stones had welcomed her into their home. They had made sure she was well fed, clothed, that her health improved. Gemma had driven her to the physiotherapy sessions, waiting in the room, asking questions afterwards, wanting to know how else she could help. ‘Can she walk outside? What about going up the stairs? How long should she stay on her feet?’
Bea remembered the day the doctors had finally told her that she would never recover completely, that she would not get full use of her leg. She had known really, but she had still clung to hope that perhaps if she worked hard, if she pushed herself, she would gain more and more strength and could go back to ballet.
She had stared at the doctor, trying hard not to cry. She’d bitten her lip until she’d tasted blood. She had felt Gemma’s arm round her shoulders. It had been the last straw. Bea had put her face in her hands and sobbed. Gemma had pulled her into her arms and hugged her tight. ‘It’s OK, it’s OK. We’ll figure this out.’ And Bea had known that she’d meant it. That somehow the stars had aligned in her favour when she’d been sent to live with the Stones, because finally she’d felt as if someone really cared for her, was concerned about her well-being, wanted to make sure that she was happy.
Over the years Bea had stopped being angry all the time and stopped missing Sebastian so much that her heart ached constantly. Instead she’d focused on school, made sure that she aced her exams, if only to make Gemma proud. She’d be in the front row cheering her on at every prize day. Gemma had been her biggest champion.
Ronnie had been put at the back of her mind, because she hadn’t been able to process the new feeling she had. Gratitude.
Rummaging in her bag, she took out John's business card, staring at the neat lettering. She picked up her phone and typed a quick email, sending it to the address on the card. She was still holding her phone in her hand when it beeped. It was a text from Laurence, asking her a question about a client. Sighing, she drank the coffee and picked up her bag. At least at the office she’d keep her mind occupied and not have to think about Miriam. She needed to focus on something else before the fear overwhelmed her.
‘How did it go?’ Meghan asked as soon as Bea walked into the office. Her hands were clasped together, her face upturned, looking right at Bea, eager for information.
‘Good, I think.’ She was unsure how many details she should give, uncomfortable speaking about the meeting. ‘It was just an introductory meeting mostly.’
‘Did you see the other kids you lived with? The ones who were in the accident?’
‘Yes, they were there.’
‘When was the last time you’d seen them?’
‘The day of the accident.’ Meghan was looking at Bea intently, wanting more information. ‘We were all separated, sent to different homes. I didn’t know where everyone else had gone and the social worker wouldn’t tell me, something about confidentiality.’
‘What a bummer! That must have been really hard.’
For hours she stared at her computer screen, answering one email after the other. She was the last one to leave, locking the door behind her. As she walked along the wet streets, she knew that she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t be alone, with her thoughts. She needed to be surrounded by people, by strangers who didn’t know her story. Those who wouldn’t ask questions, who wouldn’t look at her pitifully when she stood up and instinctively rubbed her leg.
Pulling her coat more tightly round her, she walked away from the bus stop and towards the nearest pub. She didn’t need anything fancy today, just a beer. Or two. Or three. She didn’t care what it tasted like as long as it helped her forget. She didn’t care where she was as long as she wasn’t alone, as long as she was surrounded by noise that would drown her thoughts and help her find a few moments of inner peace.
*
The Uber dropped her in front of her flat and she rummaged in her bag to find her keys. It was dark, the dim light from the flickering street lamp not doing much to illuminate the inside of her bag. She leaned against the wall, the alcohol making her unsteady on her feet. Finally she found the keys and let herself in the building, wincing in pain as she went up the stairs to her flat. She locked the door behind her and took a couple of steps to the sofa, falling right into it, enjoying the softness that enveloped her body. Her tired, aching body.
Her head hurt, partly due to the alcohol. Putting her head back against the cushions, she closed her eyes. It was probably just seconds but she felt herself dozing off into an exhausted sleep. She knew she should get up, go to bed, change into her pyjamas, but she didn’t have the energy. So she stayed put, letting the rhythmic breathing lull her even further to sleep.
The sound of her phone beeping startled her. It was just an email. She should let it be. It couldn’t be anything urgent. Not at this time. But her brain was buzzing now; she was awake.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes and held tight onto the sofa’s armrest, helping her get up. Her phone screen was lit, making it easy to find.
Opening the mailbox, she clicked on the unread email. It was from John, sent to all of the rest. She scanned Sandra and Helen's email addresses, as if they contained any information about their lives, who they had really become. Her eyes moved quickly from one side of the phone to the other as she read the message.
Hello all,
It was great seeing you all again today after so many years. We certainly have a lot of catching up to do. Let’s meet up at my apartment and have a proper evening of reminiscing on old times. Is everyone available on Wednesday at 7 p.m.?
There was an attachment. She opened it to find a map to a swanky Chelsea neighbourhood. She couldn’t help her eyebrow from shooting upwards. Who knew where he’d be now had it not been for the accident?
Shaking her head, she tried to squash the thought. There was no reason to dwell on the past, wonder what would have been. Their lives had changed and now they had a differ
ent problem. One that could take everything away from them.
She shuddered, the fear going up and down her body. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, downing it in one go before pouring another one. Propping herself against the counter, she gripped the edge until her knuckles went white. She focused on the colour leaving her hands, tried to rid her brain of all other thoughts.
For long minutes she stood there, until the pain in her leg made it impossible to continue standing. Shaking her head at the constant reminder of her disability, she straightened slowly and moved away. It was time to bring this day to an end and head to bed. Tomorrow she’d try to figure out a way forward.
Count me in
She typed in her phone, quickly sending the email to all the others. There was a jitter in her chest. The idea of connecting with her old friends brought about a sense of serenity that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She just had to survive until next week.
21
The taxi stopped in front of an imposing building. The columns at either side of the enormous door were pristine white. Walking up the veined marble steps, Bea paid extra attention not to slip. Before ringing the bell, she looked at her phone to make sure she had the right flat number, even though she had memorised it. Two seconds later John’s crackled voice came through the speaker.
‘Hi, it’s Bea.’ Her heart beat fast, although she wasn’t sure why. The door buzzed open and she made her way into a spacious marble-clad lobby with a huge arrangement of flowers standing on an imposing iron table in the centre. Walking round the table, she made her way towards the staircase, when she spotted the lift. It pinged open and she got inside the tiny cubicle, so small that Bea knew she could touch both sides without really having to stretch her arms and hoped that it wouldn’t stop, that she wouldn’t get stuck in there. Confined spaces made her nervous, reminding her of those moments spent in the van after the accident, unable to move, the pain overwhelming.
We All Fall Down Page 12
