by Nina Manning
Immediately, I could see there was someone headed along the driveway towards the tennis courts, a small will-o’-the-wisp light was wavering in the distance. The moon was high and bright and provided some light, but I still couldn’t see who it was, but I wanted to know why they were heading that way on their own in the dead of night. I knew my boots would make too much noise on the gravel so I hopped into the flower meadow to my right, which was now full and blooming; I could at least duck down into it if whoever it was decided to turn around and look.
I made it all the way to the end of the drive, making sure I followed the light the entire way, never once taking my eyes off the tall figure. They turned left down the back of the tennis courts – where no one ever went because it was full of debris, old fencing and bits of wood dumped by the bushes. I stayed as close as I could to the light in front of me. The moon was now behind the tennis court wall and I would have to use my senses and go as slowly as I could. Once I had navigated my way past the bits of wood, I leant against the wall to the tennis court and felt my way along to the end where the ground became bushes. I could just about make out a small gap in the hedgerow, which I imagined would eventually lead onto Brian’s field. I wasn’t sure who had gone in there and I wasn’t sure that if I followed, I wouldn’t bump headfirst into them. I moved to the very edge of the tennis court wall, where the wall ended and there was a small gap between the wall and the tennis court. I ducked into it, trying to think my next move through. I had come all this way and I wanted, no needed, to know who had gone into that gap. I had surprised myself that I had managed to come out this far, but I knew I had my Millwall brick and my torch, both of which I could use as weapons, before running away as fast as I could if I had to.
As I contemplated what to do, I heard the footsteps on bracken and saw the light from the torch coming through the bushes. I stumbled back further into the gap between the hedgerow and the tennis court wall, crouching down just as the figure came walking out of the bushes. And this time, I could see who it was. The light from their torch reflected back onto them from the bushes behind them, just enough so that I could make out Ava’s face.
I waited until Ava had rounded the corner and was back on the gravel driveway, making her way back up to the main house. Then I took out my torch and slipped into the gap in the hedgerow Ava had come out of.
Inside, I could see a small clearing, but as I shone my torch around, I couldn’t see any evidence of what Ava would have come in here for. Until suddenly the torch light caught on a bright red object to the far right, where the clearing curved round further. If you did not know this place was here, you certainly would not stumble upon it. I walked tentatively to the right, following the torch beam until I could see what it had captured in its stream of light. There was a bush and then a small hollow, a gap big enough to army crawl into. I bent down and looked through it. I could see a tree trunk, and all around it, various trinkets and objects that looked like some sort of shrine. There was just enough room for me to squeeze in, so Ava must have been lying down to get in there. As I fell to my knees and edged myself into the gap, I could see an array of curious objects: a glass gem, a small wooden doll – that was barely a doll, it looked ancient – a snow globe and a few other objects all lined around the trunk. The one that had caught my eye was the red object that I could now see was a large red dice. I sat and looked at the objects, trying to piece together the puzzle, for it seemed there was indeed a puzzle here to be solved, but my mind could not bring it all together. I sat looking at the objects and I naturally began counting them. All together there were fourteen trinkets. Perhaps they were prizes, but for what? The only relevance I could think of was age. My age, which was fourteen, but more importantly, Caitlin’s age. She turned fourteen today. And these items looked like small gifts, one for each year of her life.
The cold air must have finally got to me, as I felt a shiver run down my spine. I edged backwards out of the gap and into the clearing, then I turned off my torch and felt my way back out of the hedge into the small awkward path between the tennis court wall. I eventually found my way back out onto the driveway and kept to the edge of the wildflower meadow, just in case Ava was still at the end of the drive and could hear my boots on the gravel. When I reached the end of the driveway, I could see that the coast was clear, so I hopped onto the gravel and walked back to the cottage. I crept inside, put the torch and the folded newspaper down and slipped out of my wellies. I had already vowed to discover the secrets of the house and the Clemonte family, and the time was right. And I knew exactly how I would find out more. I thought about the skeleton key that Caitlin carried around with her, and I knew somehow, I had to get it off her. And with the party tomorrow night, it would be the perfect opportunity.
23
London, September 2009
The night before the wedding
* * *
I had booked a hotel suite for Caitlin and me, just around the corner from the venue. It has two rooms with king-size beds, a huge bathroom and living area with a balcony looking over London. It’s nothing to Caitlin – she has this kind of luxury every single day – but I feel I need something special. Somewhere I can compose myself in comfort before tomorrow. There are so many things running through my mind – and not just the usual bridesmaid duties. Caitlin said she was happy to stay at home, but I said absolutely not on the eve of her wedding. She needed to be here. I wanted, needed, this time for us. I want to look back and for this to be the memory that stands out. Our time alone in the hotel. The calm before the storm. Hopefully, Caitlin will remember it too, something for her to look back on and know that my heart was in the right place and I was and have always been a good friend to her in so many ways.
I hang the wedding dress up in the bedroom on the edge of the wardrobe door and call for room service. Caitlin has decided not to drink anything tonight, so I just order French fries with truffle oil and parmesan, and a platter of cheeses and frozen grapes. Both of us are nervous about tomorrow, but in much different ways. Caitlin isn’t showing any outward signs, but I can tell from the way she is putting things away meticulously that she is channelling her nerves through organisation. I watch as she circles the room, methodically placing objects in the appropriate place: hairbrush, her curling tongs on the dressing table, toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom.
‘You’re very calm and collected,’ I call from the sofa in the small living area that separates our rooms, where I sit in my loungewear. I can see through the double doors that she is now laying out her silk pyjamas. It has been a long day seeing to the finishing touches, making sure the party favours are all ready and delivered to the venue. I had wanted to give everything one last check over, even though the venue has a designated wedding planner – I needed to make sure everything will be perfect. My phone alerts me to a text. My stomach does a flip when I read it.
We really can’t wait. See you tomorrow. X
How can it possibly have come to this? All the lies, the deceit and for so many years. But I know it has to happen. I want to send Caitlin away into her new life as happy as she can possibly be, and if that means relieving myself of the knowledge I have been holding on to for too many years as well, then that will be an added bonus.
The room service arrives, and Caitlin joins me on the sofa. I pick up a chip and look at it.
‘There’s about twenty-five fries in that bowl. That works out about thirty pence a fry. A whole potato costs thirty pence. Say they used two potatoes, the truffle oil and parmesan would be less than a pound. So that’s a maximum cost price of one pound sixty. These fries were seven fifty! That’s a gross profit of almost six pounds. I know they have to pay their staff and heating, et cetera, but come on. That’s a lot of profit for a potato.’ I frown at Caitlin who still hasn’t said anything.
‘You’re so weird, Sasha,’ she says absently as she picks up a piece of cheese and a frozen grape.
‘Why does that make me weird, Caitlin?’ I could have ignor
ed her comment – she says things without even knowing she has said them sometimes, it’s like she is on unkind autopilot – but for some reason, I can’t let it drop.
Caitlin looks at me, a little startled by my response.
‘Okay. You’re discussing a chip. Do you have some last-minute bridesmaid jitters or something?’
I shake my head. ‘Nope.’
‘So that’s the sum of this evening, my last night of freedom.’ She throws her arms up in the air in that flamboyant way of hers. ‘And you’re discussing the price of chips.’ She laughs to herself.
‘Well, okay then, it’s your night, your “last day of freedom” as you put it. What should we discuss?’
‘I don’t know, maybe we should get drunk! Oh wait, you don’t do that.’ I feel the comment cut me; even though I know it doesn’t have to any more, I still let it. She can have that one. There are only a few more comments like that I will need to take.
My phone rings, the wedding planner’s name lights up the screen.
‘Pour yourself a large vodka. Knock yourself out, just don’t come crying to me when you have the hangover from hell in twelve hours on your wedding day.’
Caitlin scowls as I leave the room and go to the little hallway to take the call.
A few moments later, I begin pulling on a big cardie over my loungewear. Caitlin looks at me, her eyes wide, waiting for me to give her a response. Sometimes, words are just too much effort for her.
‘It’s the wedding planner. I need to nip over to the venue, to double-check the place settings for tomorrow.’
Caitlin rolls her eyes.
‘She’s young and doesn’t want to make any mistakes, I guess – I’ll be half an hour.’ I add a long scarf to my ensemble; it’s nearly dark, and the temperature from the day has dropped significantly and the venue is a few minutes’ walk away.
Caitlin stands up and makes a show of going to the mini bar, taking out two bottles of vodka and a can of tonic. She pours it all into one glass and takes a long drink.
I make no comment as I finish wrapping my scarf around my neck.
‘Right, I’ll be back shortl—’
‘Oh do shush and go and rearrange the doilies.’ Caitlin flops down onto the sofa. ‘I will try and stay awake, for the sake of tradition.’
‘Right.’ I pull on my trainers and head to the door, grabbing the door key card on the way from the hall.
‘Caitlin.’
‘Yes.’ She’s already distracted by something on her phone.
I breathe in. Words almost spill out of my mouth, a tidal wave of sentences I have saved myself from saying a thousand times. Words that I swallowed deep down so many times I feel poisoned by them.
‘Er, do you want anything whilst I’m out?’
‘No.’ Caitlin waves me away without looking up.
‘Okay.’ I head out of the door, pushing down those words once more. They can wait. For soon I won’t need any words at all.
I walk into the venue where Chuck and Caitlin will marry in only a few hours. I spot Veronica, the wedding coordinator. She looks at me with slight panic in her eyes, but before I can get to her I am grabbed firmly by the arm.
‘Chuck, what are you doing?’
‘I need to see you.’ He looks terrified.
‘Well, I need to see Veronica, that’s why I’m here.’ I scan the reception area again, but Veronica has gone.
‘No, you’re here because I paid that whippersnapper fifty quid to call you and pretend she needed you for something.’ Chuck spits the words out.
I think about the horrified expression Veronica had given me when I had arrived.
‘Chuck, Veronica is a very nice girl and you are corrupting her with your behaviour, not to mention, drawing attention to us. What do you want people to think?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t care what anyone thinks. Weddings are a charade and a pain in the arse, if you ask me. I would much rather pop on a plane somewhere hot and get it over with, tout de suite.’
I follow Chuck over to a couple of armchairs in the foyer and we sit down.
‘So what is it, Chuck?’ I ask, pulling my cardigan around me for comfort rather than warmth.
‘I just needed to see you, one more time, that was all, before the “big day” tomorrow,’ Chuck says mockingly. He flattens a stray hair on his head and tries to make himself appear calm. But the telltale perspiration around his hairline is a giveaway, even though he is wearing just a T-shirt and chinos.
I let out a long sigh. I had other things to worry and think about now.
‘I’m a man of tradition, and as far as I’m concerned – after I’ve said my vows to Caitlin – I am to be true to my wife for the rest of my days.’
‘Yes, Chuck, so you’ve told me. You’re going to make a fabulous husband.’
‘Yes, yes, I know, I just… Do you think I need to say something to Caitlin? I feel riddled with guilt, Sasha, absolutely riddled with it.’
I take a deep breath and consider Chuck’s words. I lift my hand to raise the attention of a passing staff member and order us a couple of brandies. Some occasions call for a real drink, one to be savoured. Of course I am not going to let Chuck say anything and ruin everything I have planned because of his guilty conscience. I figure I can give him thirty minutes of my time and that will be enough to talk him down. He needs to get that ring on Caitlin’s finger. Then I can wash my hands of it all.
There we sit, two old friends, but to anyone passing, our heads almost pressed together and occasionally squeezing one another’s hands, we could have been something so much more.
Caitlin is fast asleep in her huge bed when I get back. It’s gone ten thirty, and I have spent longer out than I had anticipated. Chuck and I got talking, and before we knew it over an hour had passed, and so with one brandy sloshing around my system – Chuck needed three to be talked down – I do a quick check on Caitlin. Her breathing is quiet and slow; she truly is out for the count. I’m glad as I need an early night. I want to be fresh-faced and focused for tomorrow.
I’m in my pyjamas and wiping off the remains of my make-up in my en suite when I hear the familiar faint mutterings coming from Caitlin’s room. I creep from my room and reach the edge of my doorway but quickly step back when I realise that she has turned her bedside lamp on and is no longer lying down, but sat on the side of the bed, looking towards the wall. Her eyes are wide open, and she is muttering quickly and quietly. I can’t make out any of the words she is saying, but it sounds rushed and almost heated, as though she is having an argument with someone. I am only just peeking out from behind my bedroom doorway as I stand listening, but she turns abruptly and looks right at me for a second. I think that I’ve been caught, but instead she clicks off the lamp next to her bed and the room is plunged into darkness.
24
Saxby House, Dorset, August 1990
Caitlin and Josephine’s party was due to start at 7 p.m. When the adults were all well on their way to getting drunk, it would be almost dark and the perfect opportunity to snoop about. But first of all, I needed to get the skeleton key from Caitlin, which would be tricky as I knew she carried it on her most of the time.
Mum, Dad and Hunter were all dressed and ready to go by six and were standing in the kitchen in their smarts, eating Hula Hoops out of a bowl. I was wearing the outfit Mum had ordered out of her catalogue for me; turquoise three-quarter-length cotton trousers and a white crop top.
‘You know they’re doing food?’ I said. ‘Loads of it by all accounts, so you don’t need to fill up on snacks.’
‘I know, dear, but I like to line my stomach a bit before I have a drink, otherwise I’m a right mess, aren’t I, Phil?’
‘Yep, your mum’s a cheap date, all right.’ Dad smirked and Mum whacked him so hard on his arm, he yelped.
We mooched around the house for another hour, using the toilet, Mum applying some more lippy, clearing away a few bits until finally she declared it was time to go – I hadn’t wanted to
turn up early.
As we left the cottage, I could hear the music coming from the marquee.
‘Cool! Are there gonna be lights?’ Hunter said.
‘Yes, I reckon so.’ I was glad to see my brother so excited about a night out. He didn’t get to hang out quite as much as I did at the main house, and sometimes I felt guilty about that. But tonight, Mum and Dad weren’t staff; we were all guests, and it felt nice.
We rounded the corner of the back garden to find the marquee already bustling with guests, many of whom were staying at the house or at local hotels. I spotted Caitlin amongst a group of adults. She was wearing a typically flamboyant choice of clothing. Tonight, a red beaded dress with tassels at the bottom. She was also wearing a small black bag diagonally across her chest – she had begun carrying around make-up – and I knew that was where the key would be.
Chuck came bounding over to us. He shook Dad’s hand and embarrassed Hunter when he held his hand out for a handshake too. Mum got all in a fluster when she turned her head at the wrong moment as Chuck went in for a kiss on the cheek and so their lips almost collided. By now I was used to the way Chuck greeted me, and so I received his kiss on the cheek graciously, to the shock and surprise of my parents.
‘Let me get you all a drink – what are you having?’
