‘Try to have some fun tonight, catch up with old friends and not just talk about what happened back then.’
His words sounded chiding, but she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on them. Instead, she turned on her heel and headed to the bathroom, quickly retouching her make-up and fixing her hair before leaving the office and heading to the Tube.
25
‘You did what? Are you crazy?’ Sandra was looking at John with her eyes wide open, her mouth agape, her head jutting forward.
‘It was the only choice. I couldn’t exactly go digging in the sandpit while the estate agent was looking over my shoulder. What if I had found what I was looking for? She’d have noticed.’
‘But buying the house?’ Sandra could feel her face start getting hot. She had this propensity for getting blotchy when she was flustered. ‘That’s insane. It’s one thing going to see the house, and completely another to buy it.’
‘She has a point,’ Helen piped up. ‘This is quite a big move. If the police get wind of this, they might start asking questions, inquiring about your interest in the house. After all these years. And if Miriam says something, it might fuel their suspicions, make us look even guiltier.’ She spun round towards Bea. ‘How could you let him do something this stupid?’
‘OK, calm down,’ John said before Bea could react. He was waving his hands in front of him. ‘First of all, I didn’t just buy the house to get rid of the container. I bought it because it’s a fantastic investment opportunity. It’s in bad shape so I got a very good price. The neighbourhood is improving dramatically – there are plans for a Waitrose just down the road. I can renovate it and make a lot of money. It’s a good deal and frankly I would have made an offer even if we didn’t have the other issue at stake.
‘And with regards to the container, well, as soon as I get the keys, I’m going there and digging that sandpit. If it’s still buried, I’ll get rid of it. Nobody else will find it. There will be no evidence. It will be just Miriam’s word against ours. The ramblings of someone who had amnesia for years and years. Do you think they’re going to believe her over us? If there’s no evidence? I would have completely solved our problem.’
‘But what if she speaks before you get the keys? Then they will find it there and know that you bought the house because you had something to hide.’ Sandra noticed a vein in Helen’s forehead pulsating, making her face look contorted. ‘It will make things worse than they already are.’
‘I’m getting the keys Monday after next,’ he responded. ‘I made sure to negotiate a quick completion. Just let me worry about this. I know what I’m doing.’
‘This affects us too,’ Sandra spat out. ‘We have every right to worry. You should have talked to us first and not gone ahead with this insane plan that could bring us all down. I really don’t want to end up in jail.’
She put her face in her palms as her body started shaking. She felt the weight of an arm around her shoulders and looked over to see Helen, sitting right next to her, holding her tight, making shushing sounds to help calm her down. ‘Everything will be OK, we’ll figure it out.’
‘You don’t know that.’ Her hands were still covering her mouth, making her words sound muffled. ‘Nobody knows that.’
No one said anything. As they sat in silence, another thought struck Sandra. ‘What if Miriam has already spoken with the police?’ Her voice quivered and she cleared her throat. ‘They could already be watching us, waiting for us to take a wrong step, trying to see if we have something to hide.’ She turned towards John. ‘They might already know you’re buying the house and are watching to see what you do. They’ll catch you digging the sandpit and know that Miriam was telling the truth.’
John didn’t respond. He busied himself pouring a glass of whiskey. The ice clinked against the crystal glass. ‘Why did you have to do something so erratic?’ Sandra asked in a trembling voice.
Bringing the glass to his mouth, he drained it in one go, then scrunched his face momentarily. ‘It’s done now, there’s no turning back. You need to stop questioning everything that I do.’
He poured himself another glass of whiskey but left it on the counter. ‘If I messed up, I’ll take full responsibility. I won’t bring you all down with me. I would never do that.’
‘No.’ Bea’s voice rang out in the big room. ‘We all stick together. It was our plan. We were all on board with it. We’re not allowing one person to take the blame for all of us. We either all get away with it or we all get blamed. We just need to stick to our story, make sure that the police don’t believe Miriam. And if they find the container, then we’ll deal with that.’
A lump formed in Sandra’s throat and, despite her hesitation, she found herself nodding. Even after years apart, there was still a bond that was unbreakable. The years suffering in silence had brought them together in a way that was too strong for anything else to tear them apart.
‘How did we ever think we’d get away with this?’ Sandra’s voice was barely a whisper as she asked the question that often cropped up in her mind but she had never dared say aloud.
Helen shook her head. ‘We were desperate, young, stupid.’ Her eyes were glistening and tears were forming in the corners. ‘We had nobody else to turn to.’
‘But that’s what I’ve often wondered.’ The floodgates had opened and Sandra could not keep her thoughts to herself. They’d haunted her for too many years. So many times she had wanted to speak to her husband, to tell him about the beatings, who Miriam really was.
She had come very close once. Alistair was around four and having a tantrum-filled day. She was exhausted, having spent the day trying to appease him while also taking care of Amanda. She was relieved when Louis came home. She dumped a few ingredients in the pressure cooker and ran off to take a shower. The hot water felt heavenly on her tired body and for a few minutes she allowed herself to forget about everything else and focus on herself.
Despite the briefness of her time alone, she was feeling refreshed as she walked back downstairs, happy to be wearing clean clothes, and that her hair was freshly washed. But her relaxation was short-lived. She was barely halfway down the stairs when she heard Louis’ voice booming angrily. ‘Give it back!’ he was shouting. Sandra rushed down, getting into the living room just in time to see Louis lift his arm and bring his hand down forcefully on Alistair’s behind.
A strangled scream escaped her mouth as she ran towards her husband, pulling him back with such force that he lost his balance and toppled back on the sofa. She looked at Alistair, standing there, his mouth open, looking at her in shock. She picked him up and pulled him tightly against her, nestling his head against her chest, kissing his flushed cheeks. ‘Don’t you ever dare hit my child,’ she snapped towards her husband before carrying the now-crying boy out of the room.
Later that evening, when the children had gone to sleep, Louis cleared his throat. ‘I shouldn’t have hit him. I don’t know what came over me.’
Sandra pursed her lips together and looked away, busying herself with her tea. She exhaled slowly and looked up at her husband. A voice inside her urged her to tell him about life with Miriam, the beatings, the terror. But then fear took over and she said nothing.
But now she could finally voice the thoughts that had accompanied her for all those years as she stood surrounded by the only people who could understand her. ‘Why didn’t we speak up? We all had bruises. We could have shown them and someone would have had to believe us. Know that we were telling the truth. That she was a bad person.’
John walked into the centre of the room and sat down next to Bea. ‘And then what? Where would it have left us if we had talked?’ He stretched his arm on the back of the sofa. ‘Either nobody would have believed us and we’d have had to face Miriam’s anger or we would have been taken away, separated. That’s what happened once she was gone.’
Sandra’s heart felt as if someone were squeezing it as she remembered how much she had cried on the train to Manchester, ho
w much she had missed the others.
‘How did we even come up with the idea of poisoning her?’ Helen’s arms were wrapped around her body, making her look even thinner than she actually was, her willowy figure looking as if it were going to sink into the plush sofa and disappear.
Nobody talked for a while. ‘Sebastian.’ His name came out before Sandra had time to think. She clapped a hand on her mouth and looked at Bea. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s still hard for you.’
Bea was staring right ahead, a vacant look in her eye. John put his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder, until she closed her eyes for a second, before turning towards Sandra. ‘It’s OK.’ Her voice was so small that Sandra had to strain to hear her. ‘I’m used to him being gone.’ She paused for a second before adding: ‘And yes, it was him.’
‘He was always the one coming up with the bold ideas.’ John chuckled.
Helen cleared her throat. ‘We were so naive to go along with it. How would it have helped? How was it better than speaking up? We’d still have been taken away if she got properly sick, separated. And we had become criminals.’
‘We didn’t think it through,’ John responded. ‘At the time it sounded believable that we could make her weak enough that she wouldn’t have the energy to hit us but not too much that she wouldn’t be able to keep us. It took me years to realise just how ridiculous that plan was.’
‘Do you think it caused the accident?’ Helen’s voice was so soft that the question was barely audible. ‘She had been struggling to move, taking longer to react. Perhaps if we hadn’t been poisoning her, the accident would never have happened.’
For long moments they sat in silence broken only by the sound of ice clinking against the side of John’s glass. ‘I’ve wondered about that,’ Bea finally said. ‘Often. I’ve wondered whether our stupid plan caused Sebastian’s death. I’ve never forgiven myself for it.’
Sandra leaned towards her friend and clutched her hand, squeezing tight. ‘She shouldn’t have been driving if she wasn’t feeling well. It was her responsibility.’
‘I agree,’ Helen added. ‘We were doing what we thought was best for us. We were just kids. We didn’t know any better.’
‘I can’t believe how stupid we were, how this is going to ruin our whole lives. We’re fucked, that’s what we are. She’s screwing us all over again. It’s like we’re back in the house, under her thumb.’ Sandra covered her face with both hands and started shuddering, the sound of sobs filling the room.
As she left John’s flat that evening, Sandra knew that she was right. Miriam had the power to make their lives miserable, to make them turn on one another. It was almost as if things had not changed, that they were back where they had been twenty-eight years before, totally at her mercy. Anger filled her body and she felt her chest hurting. She hated her. More than she’d ever hated anyone. She could not allow her to speak, to tell her story.
26
The wind was blowing but Bea couldn’t feel it. Not the dust being blasted into her face. Not her hair being pulled back. She was numb, standing in the corner, staring right ahead. She didn’t know how long she’d been there for, when a taxi pulled up in front of her. Quickly she jumped in and held onto her bag as she stared out of the window, worry making her want to throw up.
When the taxi let her out in front of her flat, she fumbled for her keys. Opening her bag wide, she took a peek inside but couldn’t spot them. ‘Ugh,’ she moaned. Bending her knee, she balanced her bag on it and used both hands to search, cursing herself for not putting them in the small zipped-up compartment. They were always thrown unceremoniously in the big expanse that was cluttered with papers, cosmetics, her extra-large wallet, and an open packet of crackers. Every now and then she’d clean up her bag, vow to be more tidy, to take better care of her belongings. But the resolution didn’t last and she would soon be back to her old ways.
Finally she found them. They had slipped into one of the inside pockets and were hidden underneath her make-up bag. ‘Thank God!’ she exclaimed. Going back to the office to get her spare set was not something she was keen on.
She got to her door and focused on putting the key in the lock. She jabbed at the door a couple of times before she got the right angle and the key slipped in. Bea turned it and pushed the door open.
One of her neighbours was walking down the stairs. She smiled and headed straight to the letter boxes, opening hers and taking out a few envelopes. Averting her face so that she didn’t have to make conversation, Bea looked through the post. A couple of marketing flyers from a clothes store that she’d bought from once before. A few plain envelopes that looked like bills. A thick pink envelope with Gemma Stone’s neat handwriting on it.
Despite the fear deep in her belly, Bea couldn’t resist a smile. Thinking of Gemma and the rest of the Stones always made her happy. Well, they weren’t all Stones any more. Sophia had got married and was now Sophia Hatley.
She remembered when Gemma had invited her over for lunch a few months before. She’d called so many times, making sure Bea didn’t forget. ‘Please, be on time.’ Gemma’s insistence had started to worry Bea.
‘What’s happening? Please tell me if something’s wrong,’ Bea begged. ‘Don’t leave me waiting until Sunday; that’s days away!’
‘No, no, nothing’s wrong,’ Gemma insisted, giggling. Her girly laughter reassured Bea. Perhaps she and Martin were going on that long trip they’d been promising themselves for years. ‘Just come on Sunday. Eleven-thirty. Don’t be late.’
She took the train to the Stones’ house, walking from the station through the familiar neighbourhood. Years before Gemma and Martin had talked about moving out of London, to somewhere in the countryside. Gemma wanted a big garden. But they never did and instead Gemma spent hours in the small yard, planting and potting and pruning. Her skin had got darker and she looked healthier, a glow in her face, a sparkle in her eyes.
When Bea arrived at the Stones’ house, Sophia came running to greet her. ‘Hello, hello, so glad you’re here,’ she said, putting her arms around Bea’s neck and holding her tight.
They walked into the kitchen where Gemma was busy chopping vegetables. ‘Why do you insist on ringing the bell?’ she asked, wiping her hands and coming around the island to give Bea a hug. ‘How many times have I told you to use your key? This is your home too.’
Bea flushed. There had never been a moment when the Stones made her feel as if she was anything but part of the family. They’d included her in everything. Just last year she had been the maid of honour at Sophia’s fairy-tale wedding.
‘Where’s Martin?’ she asked.
‘In the conservatory, reading,’ Gemma responded.
‘I’ll go say hello.’ Bea walked to the other side of the house to find Martin sitting comfortably in an armchair, a newspaper open wide in front of him.
‘Bea! How lovely to see you,’ he said, standing up and giving her a big hug. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Great, how about you?’ Despite the light atmosphere in the house, she still had a nagging worry that something might be wrong.
Martin rattled on about his golf tournament, the begonias that Gemma had almost killed, and then moved on to politics. Bea smiled but tuned him out. Nothing good would come of getting into an argument about politics with Martin.
‘Lunch’s ready.’ Bea was relieved when she heard Gemma call.
‘Let’s go,’ she told Martin. ‘You don’t want to be late to the table.’
‘Definitely not.’ He smiled coyly. ‘And certainly not today.’
As she followed him, Bea had an uneasy feeling.
They sat around the big oak table. Bea affectionately rubbed the nick on the corner. She had been doing her homework on the table when Alexander had thrown a football at her. She’d ducked and the ball had hit the shelves behind her, sending one of Gemma’s vases tumbling down, shattering into a million pieces as it had hit the solid table. Gemma had come running from the kitchen, her eyes w
ide open, her cheeks flaming red. Her face had relaxed when she’d realised nobody had been injured, although she’d still chided them for playing inside.
‘Where’s Sean?’ Bea asked, looking at Sophia, who had just taken a seat opposite her.
“He's away for work,” Sophia answered.
‘It’s just us today,’ Gemma intervened.
‘Yeah, what’s with this?’ Alexander asked, pulling a chair next to Bea and sitting down. ‘They wouldn’t let me bring Debby.’ He turned to his mother. ‘She was furious, by the way.’
Gemma smiled and looked towards Sophia, who blushed and looked down. ‘Come on, Martin, open that champagne,’ the older woman said, breaking the awkward silence.
The pop of the champagne bottle, the fizz of the golden liquid being poured, the clink of the glasses.
‘Sophia has some news,’ Gemma said.
‘What’s up, sis?’ Alexander asked.
Sophia’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. ‘I’m having a baby! You’re going to become an aunt and uncle.’
The shriek came out before Bea could suppress it. She clapped her hands to her mouth and looked round the table. ‘I know,’ Gemma said. ‘Isn’t it so exciting?’
‘It’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time,’ Bea said, standing up and going round the table to hug Sophia. ‘Can’t believe you’re going to be a mum.’ Then, turning towards Gemma, she said: ‘And this will make you a grandmother.’
‘Yes, it will. And don’t bother with any digs about my age. I don’t care. I can’t wait to meet the baby.’
Weeks later Sophia called to tell Bea it was a girl. Bea offered to organise the baby shower but Gemma swooped in. ‘Let’s do it together,’ she said. Bea felt relieved. She didn’t know where to start. She let Gemma make all the preparations, happy to only be consulted occasionally.
And yet, despite having done all the work herself, Gemma still listed Bea as the host. When she opened the pink envelope, Bea saw her name printed in gold cursive. The party was in three weeks at the Stones’ house. Bea made a mental note to start looking for a gift for Sophia and the baby, and a new outfit for herself.
We All Fall Down Page 15
