‘Did what?’
‘The car.’
Whoever it is knows about me waking up in the field… although I’m not sure what that means. There’s another footstep and another rasp of ancient wood.
‘What about the car?’ I reply.
Two more footsteps and Tyler ekes out the word, ‘Don’t’.
‘Don’t what?’ I ask.
It’s the woman’s voice who answers: ‘He means, “don’t come any closer”. I think he’s missing a “please” from the beginning. He’s been saying that word a lot this week.’
‘Liv?’ My voice echoes once more.
There’s silence… and then: ‘Oh, she’s here. She’s not feeling well.’
Another squeak of rotting wood booms around the mill.
‘What have you done to her?’
A silhouette fills the spotlight in the middle of the floor. It’s only the legs at first, then the lower torso, then arms. I think it’s a trick of the light at first but it isn’t. One of the shadowed hands is clutching a knife. The razor point is clear, even through the gloom.
‘Not much,’ the voice says, though the accent has gone. There’s no disguise any longer. No point. ‘Not yet,’ it adds.
Another step and then the figure is fully in the light.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘Ellie?’
The figure relaxes slightly and it’s unquestionably her. She’s wearing wellington boots, jeans and a slim-fit coat. Aside from the graveyard, I’ve not seen her in anything other than nightclothes for weeks. Her hair is tied back into a tight ponytail. I’ve seen her more days than not for almost all my life.
‘It took you long enough,’ she says.
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Neither did I. It took me years to get it. Decades. But the truth was right in front of me the whole time.’
‘What truth?’
Ellie says nothing but I know. Deep down, I always feared this day. Not Tyler, not Olivia, not Dan, not Jason – but Ellie. I’ve hurt people over the years but probably no one more than her. My biggest fear all this time was the truth.
‘Tell me,’ Ellie demands.
‘Tell you what?’
‘Tell me how my brother died. Tell me how my twin died.’
‘You know.’
Ellie huffs a furious breath. I can’t see her clearly enough, but I know her teeth are bared, like a wolf, primed and dangerous. ‘I know the story,’ she says. ‘Everyone does. Wayne was driving too fast and he killed himself. Almost killed you. A selfish and stupid act; that’s what the coroner called it. Selfish and stupid.’
‘Ell—’
‘And what about Jason? You broke his heart and watched him go off the rails. You heard he was on hunger strike and wouldn’t visit. He almost killed himself to see you – but that still wasn’t enough.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘And yet, somehow, we’re friends. How does that work?’
‘I never meant for that to happen with Jason. We were kids. I wish I’d done things differently.’
Ellie walks in a small circle around the spotlight, scuffing her feet. The knife is ever-present in her shadow. Tyler shuffles himself into a sitting position, moaning with pain. Each of his breaths grates and catches in his throat. I’m not tied up, I could do something – rush Ellie – except she said Olivia is somewhere around here and I believe her.
‘My own car accident was an experience,’ Ellie says. ‘Completely out of the blue – but it opened my eyes. Pain’s an odd thing. When they told me I’d cracked three ribs, I couldn’t believe it. Three cracked ribs and I can barely feel a thing. They said the adrenaline might be hiding the pain and gave me painkillers anyway – but it’s never really hurt. The whiplash was a bitch, though.’
She rubs her neck to illustrate the point.
‘You broke your ribs in the crash with Wayne,’ she adds. ‘You still feel it now and again. You’ve told me that.’
‘Right.’
‘But Wayne didn’t.’
Oh, no.
I suddenly get it. I get more or less everything.
‘I was driving,’ Ellie says, ‘and I cracked my ribs on the steering wheel. So, if Wayne was driving, how come you broke your ribs and he didn’t?’
There’s an answer, something obvious – except I can’t think of anything. My mind is blank.
‘Say it,’ Ellie demands.
Chapter Forty-Seven
23 Years Ago
Wayne is sitting on the bonnet of his car, tossing the keys from one hand to the other.
‘No way,’ he says.
I press myself up against him, running my nails along his chest. I dig them into his T-shirt just enough so that he can feel it and a grin creeps onto his face.
‘Pleeeeeeease,’ I beg. ‘Please let me drive.’
‘No.’
There’s something particularly gorgeous about him today. He’s been working on his car most of the day and, because of the heat of the day and the fact he never drinks enough water, the muscles in his arms are bulging. He’s really become a man.
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ I purr.
The grin grows wider. ‘How?’
‘You know…’
He glances past me towards the dusty, deserted car park outside the mill. His is the only vehicle here. After spending the day with his car, I finally persuaded him to bring me out here. Just us this time. No Ellie or Jason to disturb us. Nobody else from the town was around either, not even a nosey dog-walker. It felt like the world was ours and ours alone.
He glances up to the sky but only for a moment. His eyes are for me. ‘It’s getting dark,’ he says.
‘So let’s get going. I’ll be really careful.’
‘You’ve not passed your test yet.’
I press against him again, lips level, barely a couple of centimetres between us. ‘No one’s going to stop us. I do know how to drive. It was that stupid examiner who spoiled things. You know that.’
I’ve cracked him now. I can see it in his smirk.
I press the car keys out of his hand and peck him gently on the nose before pushing my lips hard onto his. I’ve been trying to get Wayne to let me drive his pride and joy for weeks but he says no to everyone. This is a victory. This means he loves me.
I have to shunt the driver’s seat forward so I can reach the pedals.
Wayne fusses by telling me about how fourth gear sticks sometimes. ‘You need to shove it hard,’ he says.
‘Whatever.’
‘Not “whatever”. Listen to me.’
‘I am!’
I almost stall the car on the way out of the car park but blame it on a sticky first gear and try again. The engine purrs powerfully and beautifully. It’s much better than being behind the wheel of the instructor’s car. He complains if I get out of third gear but this is real freedom. The vibration of the engine surges up through the bodywork of the car, making the driver’s seat hum with thunderous power.
‘Good, innit?’ Wayne says from the passenger seat.
I turn out of the lane that leads to the mill, moving onto the windy country roads. Wayne scolds me for not indicating but it’s not as if there are any cars near. Whenever I push harder on the pedal, the engine roars its approval. I can feel Wayne watching from the passenger seat, not quite approving as I accelerate out of a bend. It’s only when the tyres skid across a loose coating of gravel that he speaks up.
‘Slow down,’ he says.
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘You’ve not passed your test yet.’
‘I know how to drive.’
I slow for the next bend but forget one turn leads into a second. At the last moment, as the black and white chevrons blare large in front, I brake and then make the car lurch by going straight from third to first.
Wayne is thrown forward in his seat and then turns to stare in disapproval: ‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s the car.’
; ‘You’re going too fast.’
‘No I’m not.’
I take the next bend far more carefully but the steering wheel is stiff. I wouldn’t admit it to Wayne, but it almost feels as if it is fighting against me whenever I try to turn it at lower speeds.
There are a couple more bends and then, finally, a long straight. This is the bit I’ve been looking forward to. As Wayne said, I have to ram the gearstick into fourth, but, when I ease onto the accelerator, the entire machine pulsates with power. The vibrations start under my feet, rippling up through the seat until it feels as the car and I are one and the same. It’s beautiful.
Wayne is saying something but the engine is so loud that I can’t hear him. It’ll be something about my speed, about slowing down. Not yet, though. I’ve been waiting for this. This is what living is all about. I don’t think he gets that sometimes. He’s never waded out across the river when it’s flowing at its fastest. He hasn’t run the paddles of the waterwheel, trying to get to the top. Ellie has. Jason has. I have. Not Wayne. He sees the danger; we see opportunity and fun.
Faster still. The hedges blur, the tarmac tears.
More, please. Give me more.
Chapter Forty-Eight
‘Say it.’
Ellie demands I speak for a second time. Her voice is firm and calm – but it’s that unruffled tone that terrifies me. This is the teenage Ellie, the one who’d lead the way clambering up the paddles outside, trying to get to the top of the waterwheel. She’s mellowed over the years because that’s what time does to people. What was once important gradually becomes just another thing.
Except Ellie lost a brother, a twin brother. How can that ever become ‘just another thing’?
‘I was driving.’
My words are almost lost to the sound of the river outside. Nothing happens for a moment.
It was so long ago that there are times where I’ve convinced myself it’s not true. The reality is that Wayne was driving. Everyone knows that. It happened. It’s only when I let my mind wander that the truth appears.
‘Louder.’
I shout this time, finally saying what I should have done so many years ago. ‘I was driving.’
As if to confirm it, the scar around my temple throbs and there’s a stabbing pain in my ribs. I was never the same after the crash and I suppose the physical changes pale compared to everything else.
‘Louder.’
‘I WAS DRIVING!’
The only other sounds are the river and the gentle wheeze of Tyler trying to breathe at my side. Ellie takes a step forward, her silhouette swelling in the spotlight.
‘That car was his pride and joy,’ she says.
‘Yes.’
‘He was a sensible driver.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d been in the car with him, we all had. He was careful. He didn’t speed. He didn’t like taking risks.’
‘I know.’
‘So why would he have been showing off? You were driving.’
‘Yes.’
The way she spells it out now is so matter-of-fact, so obvious, that I can’t believe nobody ever questioned things.
‘You switched places,’ she adds. ‘You belted yourself into the passenger seat and put him behind the wheel. You dragged his dead body into the driver’s seat after you killed him.’
I’m silent at that. I haven’t thought about those moments in a long time.
Actually, that’s not true. It’s strange in that I seem to always think about it and yet it’s a memory that sits behind other thoughts. It’s like a fingernail; always there and yet hardly noticeable.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ I say.
‘Tell me what you did.’
‘Ell—’
‘Tell me!’
‘Where’s Olivia?’
‘Tell me, or I swear to God...’
She doesn’t finish the sentence but she doesn’t need to. What choice do I have? I can see what she has done to Tyler.
‘Why him?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Why did he die and you survive?’
Ellie is choked, the words sticking in her throat.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘Luck. That’s all I can say. I remember opening my eyes. My chest and eye hurt but I felt okay. Then I looked across and saw him in the passenger seat and he… wasn’t. I don’t have a better explanation. When I said at the graveyard that I sometimes wish it was me who died, I meant it.’
‘What happened then?’
Tyler wobbles, his head lolling to the side. I try to prop him up but Ellie hisses for me to leave him. All I can do is lean him against the wall.
‘I didn’t plan it,’ I say. ‘It was impulse… instinct to move him. After I’d done it, I was going to put him back but then I heard the other car pulling in.’
‘Your Angel David?’
I shiver at the memory. ‘Right. There was no turning back. I wanted to tell people but it was too late. It was Wayne’s car and he was in the driving seat. Everyone assumed he was driving.’
‘You made them assume.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
The shadow of the knife rises and, though she’s across the floor, there’s a moment in which I think Ellie is going to leap forward. Even over the noise of the river, I hear her take a breath. Her silhouette hulks larger and then softens.
‘It wasn’t enough for you, was it?’ she says.
‘What wasn’t?’
‘You couldn’t stop at ruining one of my brothers, you had to have the other.’
There’s a lump in my throat. Self-serving, I know. How can I feel sorry for myself after what I did? She’s right to hate me.
‘I didn’t plan that,’ I say.
‘You knew Jason adored you.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you led him on.’
‘I…’
I stumble, because I don’t have the words – and she wouldn’t want to hear them anyway. I didn’t lead Jason on as such but I didn’t discourage him. Of course I knew he had a thing for me. Everyone did. The kids at school knew. Wayne knew. Ellie knew. He was a couple of years below us but he’d follow his brother and sister around to spend time with me. If I lay on the riverbank, he’d lay at my side. If I tried to wade into the river, he’d follow. When we were fourteen or fifteen and he was eighteen months younger, it was funny to see what he’d do for me. By the time I was nineteen and he’d recently turned eighteen, things were different. It definitely wasn’t funny any longer.
‘I shouldn’t have let it happen,’ I say.
‘But you did – and then you broke his heart.’
‘I was young, Ell. We were young. I didn’t know what would happen after I broke up with him. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, you will be.’
She spits her reply with righteous fury.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You took my brother – my brothers – and I’m going to take your daughter.’
I scramble to my feet. The sawdust and sand scuffs underneath. My knees wobble because I’ve been sitting on them for too long.
‘Stay where you are,’ Ellie says.
‘Where’s Liv?’
‘Sleeping. She had a rather strong sedative with her can of Coke during her accounting lesson. You know I can’t have children. I was doing all that for your daughter after what you’d done to me?’
She’s right. How can I ever justify it?
‘I never meant for everything to happen,’ I say.
‘But you never spoke up about it, did you? You let everyone believe Wayne was driving when it was you. It took me crashing my own car to realise.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Stop saying that!’ She speaks through clenched teeth. ‘It’s always about you, isn’t it? You’re obsessed with yourself; always whining about your husband. You know the problem isn’t Dan, don’t you? It’s you.’
Her words hurt because they scratch at my darkest
fears. She’s only saying what I’ve laid awake thinking about. Life is so easy when everything’s an injustice. If it’s someone else’s fault, then every day is a challenge to prove a point. Without that, a person can only wallow in failure.
‘I don’t know how he put up with you this long,’ Ellie adds. ‘And then, after everything you have – a successful, smart husband; a daughter – after all that, you’re getting a divorce! It’s always, always, about you.’
I don’t argue. She’s right. How many conversations have we had about her problems over the years? I’ve accepted that she lives alone, never asking if she craves more. We haven’t had a conversation about whether she wants to have children, or how the removal of her ovaries has affected her life. I wondered if she was falling into depression because she rarely left the house – but I never actually asked and I didn’t offer to go places with her. It is always about me. I scoff at someone like Natasha for the mundanity of her life – but mine is a constant invented drama. All the arguments with Dan and Olivia over nothing – and for what?
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask, not sure I want the answer.
Ellie replies with mortifying calm: ‘I’ll tell the police Olivia has been confiding in me during our classes. She was scared of what her mum might do. Her dad’s leaving and her mum fears she can’t afford to be by herself. Her mother’s been arguing with her boyfriend and making threats. She’s been saying, “we’ll always have each other”, and things like that.’
It’s more or less true.
‘People love to believe others are crazy,’ Ellie adds. ‘They say, “You’re mad”, “You’re mental”, “You’re not right in the head” – all that. Look at how erratic you’ve been all week. Not hard to believe you’re going off the rails.’
There’s a horrible, creeping realisation that she’s right. What’s going to happen if the police talk to Peter the receptionist, or Stephen? Or Graham from work? Or Declan? Or Dan himself? All of them will confirm how unpredictable I’ve been. There’s a pattern. I presume Ellie’s orchestrated much of it but that won’t matter.
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask again.
Last Night Page 28
