Digging Deeper

by Barbara Elsborg

  Barbara Elsborg

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Flick snuck back into the house after Kirsten and Josh had gone to bed. She spotted but ignored the note they’d propped against the kettle. As she passed Kirsten’s room she heard them laughing. Flick gave a quiet sigh. They’d leave and find a place of their own. It made her decision about the house a little easier. Three had become a two and one.

  In the morning, she threw her mobile under her bed and left before they woke. She didn’t want to speak to anyone. After she’d finished work at the gym, Flick went straight to Yorkshire TV to do a chauffeuring shift, all the time wondering if Beck would still turn up that night and cook a meal. If Giles had spoken to Henry, he’d know he’d misinterpreted what he’d seen. He’d tell Beck and Beck would be waiting at Timble with a meal, flowers and a smile on his face.

  In a parallel world.

  On her final trip back to the television center, Flick had to maneuver around an empty police car sitting on the forecourt. She parked and got out to open the back doors of her vehicle for the two Chinese passengers she’d picked up at the airport. As they walked into the building, two policemen came out and headed in her direction. Flick glanced around and then turned back to face them. She’d seen no one behind her and realized with a heart sinking faster than the Titanic that they wanted her.

  “Felicity Knyfe?”

  She nodded.

  “We have a warrant here for your arrest.”

  Flick didn’t hear anymore. They carried on talking but it was as though they spoke a foreign language. She saw faces watching through the glass doors of the lobby and closed her eyes to block out their stares.

  * * * * *

  They’d picked her up at 4:00 and when they finally released her it was 10:30. Flick felt empty. They’d asked the same questions over and over and she had few answers. In the end, she’d made a statement and signed it. Flick’s world had collapsed. She needed a hug. She needed her dad. Stef would be no use even if she knew how to reach her. Flick had no one and the pain of that tore at her heart. She had a long walk back to her car, and as her mind began to click back into gear she remembered Beck had expected her at the house by 7:00. She’d spent the entire day excited that he might turn up and now she hadn’t. Flick groaned and looked for a phone box.

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  No answer from Beck’s mobile. Eventually it went through to voicemail.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I meant to ring. I got—caught up in something. I’m only just on my way home. Maybe you didn’t come to the house. I don’t know. I can explain. Sorry,” she gabbled. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  An incoherent message. She should have phoned Timble first to see if he’d actually come. Flick used the other coin to phone Kirsten. The answer machine responded. She couldn’t see the point in rambling again.

  By the time she got home it was gone midnight. Everything was clean and tidy but the aroma of curry still lingered. Flick checked the kitchen waste bin and her heart sank. In a way she’d hoped he hadn’t turned up. Now she knew he had. He’d thrown away what he’d cooked. If the food had belonged to Kirsten or Josh they’d have saved it for her. For the first time in her life, Flick wished she was dead.

  * * * * *

  Beck was lying in bed when he heard his mobile beep. He picked it up, listened to the message and threw the phone down. Bit late for apologies. He’d had an unpleasant row last night with Giles when they’d got back from Timble because the prick had continued to insist there was something going on between Flick and his father. But now she’d stood him up, Beck wondered if his trust in her had been misplaced. Couldn’t she face him?

  Something else had begun to gnaw at him too. Could Giles be trying to deflect everyone from the fact that he and Flick had fucked each other? Beck thought it quite possible Giles had finished his bloody alphabet game. He’d backed Giles up about the kiss the evening of Celia’s dinner party mostly because he didn’t want to hurt Willow, although he’d decided Flick had been the victim of Giles’ drunken groping. Now Beck wondered if he’d been wrong about that too.

  * * * * *

  When Flick woke the following day, Kirsten and Josh had left for work. Apart from the food in the fridge that wasn’t hers, it was like living alone. Flick felt wretched. She was due at the gym at 4:00 for the late shift so she couldn’t even make it up to Beck by taking him out that night. Maybe he wouldn’t give her the chance. She tried ringing him but it always went to voicemail. She needed to see him only the mere thought of it made her get back into bed and pull the sheet over her face. A plan to run away from everything, go abroad, get a job in a bar and start afresh surged in and out of her mind. She could grab her passport, pack a bag and walk out—

  let Stef sort out the house and the debts. Let her sell it, she could keep the money, blow it all in Harvey Nicks. Flick didn’t care. She curled up and pulled the sheet tight around her. Okay, that’s what she’d do. She’d run but first she’d apologize to Beck. 151

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  * * * * *

  Flick saw something different about the dig site when she arrived. An air of purposefulness that hadn’t been evident before. She saw Beck talking to Isobel and hung back until they’d finished. But when she approached, his face hardened and her shoulders tensed.

  “What can I say? I’m really sorry about last night.” Flick got the words out as fast as she could.

  “So you said.”

  His voice sounded cold and dead. He started to walk away. Flick moved to his side.

  “Please let me explain.”

  He stopped walking, stood in front of her with his hands pushed into his pockets.

  “Go ahead.”

  Flick took a deep breath. She was going to tell him the truth. All of it. She just had to start slowly.

  “I’m sorry about last night. These two guys, well they sort of kidnapped me. They took me to a place in Headingley, questioned me for hours and didn’t let me go until ten thirty.” She gave a little smile.

  “Is that the best you can do? You couldn’t call? Your mobile get snatched by an alien?”

  Flick ignored the warning voices telling her to stop messing around. “I’d left it at home. I wasn’t allowed to use a phone.”

  “I’m too busy to listen to lies.” He strode off down the field.

  “It was the truth.” She realized whatever had been between them had gone. He believed Giles. No point saying anything else.

  Beck made his way over to the area he was excavating. She called that an apology?

  A stupid joke? What was she thinking? He dropped to his knees and picked up his trowel. Digging was safe. You knew exactly where you were on a dig. Surprises were almost always good ones. Everything was organized and methodical and even if you went down ten feet and didn’t find a thing, there was still a sense of satisfaction for a job well done. He dug out a trowel full of earth.

  Women, on the other hand, he couldn’t understand, no matter how hard he tried. Even when he thought he’d done everything right—sent roses or chocolates, he’d find they thought flowers a waste of money or they’d started a diet. If he took them to the opera, they preferred a TV soap, if he suggested a night in, they thought he was cheap. If he trusted them, they let him down. He’d never been stood up before. Never. He tossed a trowel-full of soil further than he’d intended and heard Matt squeal.

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  Flick walked away with her heart pounding. She went into the field with the marquee and sat on a stack of boards. She’d said she was sorry. Part of her wanted to go home and stick her head in the oven. God knows she had enough reason, but even when he’d turned his back on her, she still wanted him, still felt that flutter inside when he was near. She decided to find him again in an hour and repeat her apology and then the next hour and maybe the one after that, and she’d have to carry on until he forgave her because Flick knew she couldn’t just let him go.


  She tried on three more occasions to speak to Beck. The first time a bunch of little children surrounded him. The second time Dina intervened and told her he was busy and couldn’t be disturbed. The third time, Beck looked up and said, “Leave me alone.”

  So Flick did.

  She retreated to the other field and sat next to the hedge with her eyes full of tears. Had no one spoken to Henry? The whole thing was ridiculous. Maybe she should go to Ilkley and see him. Or would that make things worse?

  Flick sat slumped over, her fingers fiddling with something by her side and when she looked down, she saw one of Jared’s marker flags. She realized he must have missed it. This flag was nearer to Beck’s site than any of the others Jared had placed. Maybe there was something down there relating to the dig, something that might make Beck smile at her again. There couldn’t be two singing reindeer. Even she wasn’t that unlucky.

  Picking up a sharp stone, Flick scraped out a square around the flag, then began to lever up the grass piece by piece.

  * * * * *

  When Flick returned from her shift at the gym she found Josh and Kirsten waiting.

  “You’re avoiding us,” Kirsten said.

  “Hungry?” Josh asked.

  Flick shook her head. “I ate at work.” She’d eaten nothing substantial for days. Her appetite had disappeared.

  “Drink?” Kirsten offered her a glass of wine.

  “No thanks.”

  “I knew it,” Kirsten said. “You’re ill.”

  Flick blinked. “I’m not ill. There’s nothing the matter.” Nothing that could be fixed.

  “What happened last night?” Josh asked. “Beck waited for three hours. No phone calls, nothing.”

  “I wasn’t even sure he’d turn up after that business about Henry.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you could think I was having an affair with him.”

  Kirsten and Josh glanced at each other.

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  “Giles was so insistent. Anyway, he’s spoken to his father. It’s all sorted now,”

  Kirsten said.

  “We’re sorry,” Josh added.

  Kirsten moved toward Flick to give her a hug and because Flick was tired of confrontations, she let it happen, but the hurt remained. Everyone wanted to believe the worst about her, even the two people she thought were her closest friends.

  “So what did Beck do for three hours?” Flick asked.

  “Cooked you a meal, then threw it away. He went to look for the gas station where you work. Presumably he didn’t find you. So where were you?” Kirsten asked. Flick still didn’t want to tell them the truth, not exactly.

  “I’d driven back to the TV center from the airport. When I came out of the building two guys bundled me into a car and took me to some place in Headingley.”

  “You’re kidding?” Josh gasped.

  Flick kept her face expressionless. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “You were kidnapped?” Kirsten’s eyes opened wide.

  Being arrested felt like that, Flick thought, and it was about time someone felt sorry for her. “They didn’t let me go until ten thirty.”

  “Why did they let you go?” Josh asked.

  “I told them what they wanted to know. I rang Beck and left a message. I tried here but no one picked up.”

  Josh and Kirsten kept their eyes down. Flick guessed what they’d been up to.

  “What did they want?” Josh asked. “Did they…did…?”

  “They didn’t hurt me. They just wanted to talk to me. They asked me questions about people I used to know. Some bad people.” The people at Grinstead’s were bad. This was easier than Flick thought.

  “Tell me you went to the police,” Kirsten said.

  “I told the police everything.”

  “So what’s the problem with Beck?” Josh asked.

  “He doesn’t believe me. I’ve tried to apologize but he doesn’t want to know.”

  Before they could say anything she added, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m tired. As far as I’m concerned it’s over. It never started.” Flick slunk off to her room feeling a little guilty about her not-altogether-true cover story.

  * * * * *

  Willow finished the call and went into the living room where Giles and Beck sat watching paint dry. No, not quite, Willow thought—two fat men playing darts.

  “That was Kirsten on the phone.”

  “Yep,” Giles muttered.

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  “She wanted to know if Flick could come to my hen party.”

  Giles looked up. “What a bloody nerve. Of course she can’t.”

  Willow noticed Beck’s gaze remained on the television.

  “She’s bad news,” Giles said. “Beck had a lucky escape. You don’t want someone like her on your hen night. You don’t even know her that well.”

  Willow didn’t like being suspicious. She wanted to trust Giles. She didn’t want to be the jealous type, but wanting didn’t make things so. Why was he so anti-Flick?

  Willow had been there when he’d confronted his father about her, and Henry had laughed before he’d grown angry. He’d denied there was anything between them other than friendship. Giles said he believed Henry, so why was he protesting so much?

  “Why are you so against her?” Willow asked. “You made a mistake. Henry explained everything. I don’t understand. It wasn’t you she stood up. It was Beck.”

  Beck didn’t respond. Willow sighed and then added, “Wasn’t it?”

  Giles got to his feet and put his arms around her. “Sweetie pie.”

  Willow’s lips quivered.

  “There is nothing going on between Flick and me. The woman is crazy. She flirts like mad. Maybe she knew I was nearby when she was with my father and she wanted me to think they were having an affair. Maybe that lunge she made for me at the dinner party and the fact that I was a little slow to avoid her lips, made her think there was something between us. There isn’t. Now she makes up some fantastic story about being kidnapped and expects to be believed. The truth is she’s so loopy she probably forgot Beck had arranged to go round.”

  “Maybe she told the truth,” Willow said in a quiet voice. “Kirsten and Josh believe her about last night. Flick’s spoken to the police.”

  Naked women playing darts or even football couldn’t have held more interest than Willow at that moment. Both men stared at her.

  Beck had paled. “What are you talking about? The police? What happened?”

  “Kirsten doesn’t know much,” Willow said. “Flick won’t talk about it.”

  They waited. Willow knew if a guy had said that to them, they would probably have expected no more information and turned back to the TV, but now they expected her to tell them everything.

  “Kirsten said two men abducted Flick from outside Yorkshire Television Center and took her to Headingley. They asked her questions about some people she used to know. They didn’t hurt her but they dumped her afterwards and she had to walk back to her car. She told the police everything. That’s all I know so it’s no use looking at me like that.”

  “Beck’s still better off without her,” Giles said. “And so are you. I can’t begin to imagine what she’d get up to on your hen night.”

  Willow chose her words with care. “I think Flick would be fun.”

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  Giles glared at her and mouthed a curse. Willow felt her stomach turn into a hard lump. Maybe Giles intended to see Flick the night of her hen party. Maybe Flick had told the truth all along and it was Giles who’d lied.

  “She’s trouble, sweetheart,” Giles said.

  “Maybe it isn’t Flick who’s the trouble at all,” Willow muttered. She’d send a text message to Kirsten and tell her Flick could come on the hen night because she’d decided while she could see her, Giles was safe.

  Beck felt like he had early onset dementia. Flick hadn�
��t lied. She’d actually been abducted and when she’d told him, he’d walked away. How about instead of believing the worst about her, he did the opposite and trusted her? Giles had got pissed and leaped on her, she and Henry were nothing more than friends, and she hadn’t stood him up, she’d been kidnapped. It wasn’t that difficult to believe, she had the craziest life of anyone he’d ever met. She’d tried to talk to him and he’d refused to listen. Beck groaned.

  It also hadn’t escaped Beck’s attention that Giles kept lying to Willow about the kiss. Did Giles have a grudge against Flick because she’d rejected him? Or was he plotting to get X off his list before he was married? One thing Beck was sure of—he wanted to believe Flick.

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  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Flick wondered how she’d let herself get talked into this. Well, she knew exactly how. When Kirsten told her Willow wanted her to come on the hen night to make up for not believing her about Giles and Henry, Flick had wavered. When Kirsten said Beck would drive them in the minivan and that he felt terrible because he hadn’t trusted her, the wavering slowed. When Flick realized she wouldn’t actually have to ski and she could ask Beck to go for a drink so they could talk, the wavering stopped. Only now she wondered if they’d both been set up because Willow had done a good imitation of Jack Frost when she and Kirsten had climbed in the van. Flick sat directly behind Beck who’d not said a word the whole journey, apart from “hello”

  when he’d collected her and Kirsten, and another “hello” when he picked up the others. Flick went off the idea of risking more rejection and decided she’d have to ski. Only as she’d listened to the three bridesmaids talking about their last trip to Lech, she’d grown more and more nervous. Apparently, watching other people fall over was the highlight of the day.

  “Can you ski, Flick?” Willow asked, her coolness unmistakable.

  “Not very well,” she said. Like not at all.

  “You’ll be fine. It’s easy.”

  Since from that moment Willow sounded friendlier, Flick suspected she’d been penciled in as the evening’s entertainment.