‘Sorry?’
‘Daniel. Should have asked him to fill you in with the ins and outs of The Tempest. He’s a classics man, isn’t he? A Cambridge graduate. Probably reads it backwards for fun.’
I laugh. ‘See what you mean. Yes, I should have. Why didn’t I think of this? Although, he never made it to graduate status, did he, bless him?’
‘No. I suppose not. Jesus, what a complete waste.’
‘Don’t ever let him hear you say that.’
Mark shoots me one of his looks. ‘Honestly, Natalie, sometimes I wonder who you think I am. Course I wouldn’t.’
‘Sorry.’ I utter the most used word in my vocabulary. ‘Did you hear about Nigel, by the way?’ I ask to divert the conversation.
‘Nigel? Don’t tell me there’s some juicy scandal on naughty Nigel.’
‘Don’t call him that, you. He’s proper nice. I like Nigel.’ I turn in time to see Mark raising his eyebrows, lightly shaking his head.
‘So I’ve been told,’ he mutters.
Or at least I think it’s what he mutters. I’m about to challenge him but stop myself. Natalie, do you really want another fallout tonight? He was probably joking. I glance at his face for clues; he smiles at me, kind of. So I decide to let it go. ‘I meant about his visit from the police.’ Mark shrugs; obviously he’s not been informed. ‘It’s awful. A girl, woman from his practice, committed suicide. The police came to ask Nigel to identify her body.’
‘Eh? Nigel? Why Nigel?’
‘Well, she worked for him. She was Polish. Had no other available next of kin, I’m guessing. So sad, don’t you think?’
‘Bloody hell. Terrible. You sure Nigel didn’t pop her off?’
‘Mark.’ I prod him. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. Quite sure. He’s really cut up about it, you should know.’ I may be mistaken but I’m as sure as I can be I feel Mark recoil slightly.
‘Hmm. You know what they say about the quiet ones,’ he adds.
‘Oh, stop it. I felt dreadful for him. He looked such a mess when I saw him this morning. So, un-Nigel-like.’
‘You popped in, did you?’
‘Yes. Me and Mo. We saw the police arrive, take him away last night. Why wouldn’t we? We were worried, of course.’
‘I bet you were.’
‘Mark. What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What I said – I bet you were worried about your neighbour I was just saying.’
But it wasn’t, was it, Mark?
Our journey home is a quiet one. I agreed earlier to stay at Mark’s tonight but now I kind of wish I hadn’t. I also planned on bringing up the issue of the notes, to see if he had any wise ideas. Or whether he will, like Mo, feel it’s all coincidental, the notes only appearing the same time as my father’s release from prison. But what’s the point with the mood he’s in? I’ve not the energy for any of it, a lack of sleep this week catching up on me. My eyelids becoming heavier with the rhythm of the car’s engine.
I must have nodded off as I jump when Mark next speaks.
‘You never did say,’ he’s saying, ‘how it ended with your previous relationship.’
What the hell? Why is he asking me this, now? Ever since I mentioned Nigel, he’s been behaving really oddly. ‘What?’ I ask.
‘You never said, how your previous relationship ended. Was wondering about it the other day.’
‘Really, Mark? Now?’ The last thing I need to do is talk about this. ‘What on earth makes you ask such a thing now?’
‘Why? Is it problematic?’
‘No. But we’ve had a lovely evening, now I’m exceptionally tired. And, bloody hell, it’s such a random question.’ I sit myself up, staring out into the darkness. I’ve no idea where we are. It’s pitch black, with high hedgerows either side of the ridiculously narrow lane; pretty much, we could be anywhere in Cornwall. ‘Let’s not spoil the night, eh?’ I say, touching his leg.
‘Sure,’ he says.
But I can’t help wondering. Why is he asking me this? Does he know? Has someone told him? I mean, it’s not as though I murdered my ex, cutting him up into little pieces, but I’m not happy with how I behaved. To the contrary, running off with someone’s friend is never a good idea. But as always it was a little more complicated than it first appears and I’ve been proper ashamed of my actions ever since. It was an imprudent, one-off, massively regretful decision, one to stalk my conscience to this day. I was desperately insecure and unhappy at the time. Still, I make no excuses; I was completely in the wrong. ‘I just feel the past is best left in the past when it comes to our relationships, don’t you think?’
‘Hmm,’ is all I receive in return.
Does he know? Someone’s told him out of spite? It would explain his extra-needy, reticent behaviour of late. I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before silently releasing it. Why does it feel as though I’m being attacked from each conceivable angle? That elements of my past are being flung from an indiscernible distance at me? Each day, people are never failing to surprise me, turning what I think I know on its head. Has Mark been digging, or is this the work of whoever sent him the photos of me?
38
Daniel
‘Why have you come?’
‘To see you.’
‘With nothing to say for yourself?’
‘No.’
‘Then, I shall leave.’
‘Please don’t.’ Daniel meets his eyes for the first time. At the back of them he recognises the familiar steely knowing. ‘Please. I’m struggling. Really struggling. Please don’t leave.’
In silence, Jacob fetches a further rickety chair from the sitting room, places it opposite Daniel, lowering himself into it, sighing deeply. ‘You’ve not been taking your medication. Have you?’
Daniel shakes his head. ‘Makes me feel sick. Makes me lose myself completely. Like I’m watching myself on video. It’s too weird.’
‘And the alternative?’
‘I understand.’
‘Do you?’ Jacob leans in towards him, lowering his voice. ‘Do you really?’
‘I didn’t kill my sister.’ Daniel feels his eyes fill with tears. ‘I didn’t. I loved her. I didn’t kill Rebecca.’
‘Didn’t you?’ Jacob nods his head, the beginnings of a smile. ‘Okay, if you say so.’
The very thought of harming the only person who he’s ever really loved, who has ever properly loved him, momentarily allows him a feeling of invisibility. ‘I didn’t kill her. You did.’
Jacob laughs, drumming his fist on the table. ‘Priceless. Wonderfully classic. And there was me thinking your Cambridge University phase had all been such a total waste.’
‘I saw her. I saw what you did to her.’ The tears are now streaming down Daniel’s face; he wipes them away with his sleeve. ‘You did it.’ He shakes his head to clear the sound of Jacob’s laughter. ‘You must have? Didn’t you?’
‘You always did have a good imagination, Daniel. Since you were a child, I’ve been told.’
Placing his head in his hands, Daniel releases a sob. ‘I keep trying to remember.’
‘Remember?’
‘I’ve so many gaps. So many blurred images. As if I’ve been asleep.’
‘It happens. Grass can do this to you. Try not to worry, all par for the course.’
‘Why are you being nice to me? You’re never nice to me.’
Jacob leans back in his chair. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘No. I mean… yes. I don’t know. It’s not right. I’m not used to it.’
‘Maybe you’ve only ever chosen to see my dislike of you. Maybe, deep down, you see the real me. Who I’ve always been to you. Perhaps I like you? Perhaps, Daniel, this is because – you like me. Only, you’ve always fought it.’
Daniel’s thoughts pinball from the walls of his mind. Has he always liked him? Loved him? Has he deliberately built this wall, only telling himself he could never love Jacob? Jacob was evil? Jacob killed his si
ster? But he knows, deep down, no one killed Rebecca. She killed herself. Didn’t she? But did she? ‘Help me,’ Daniel whispers. ‘Please.’
‘What would you like help with?’
‘To be able to sleep again, to live with a clear conscience. To be happy like the rest of them.’
‘Happy. Happy. Especially when you’re with Natalie.’
‘Natalie is my closest friend.’
‘Yet someone amongst you is sending notes. Notes.’ Jacob nods his head. ‘I would hardly call this friendly.’
‘The notes.’ Daniel is now confused – the last time he was here, Jacob admitted to sending the notes himself. That’s why I needed to send the notes, he said. ‘But you said it was you who sent the notes.’
Jacob laughs again. ‘Daniel, Daniel, what has got into you today? I never said any such thing. What will you accuse me of next? Being your custodian? Maybe it is you who sent the notes.’
‘No, of course not. The notes are from someone trying to cause problems. Someone trying to hurt my friends, people I…’ Daniel stops himself from saying, people I care about.
‘Indeed, yes. One of your so-called friends must be sending the notes.’
‘No.’
‘It’s always such a drag isn’t it? When the truth becomes so ugly.’
‘You’re only saying this to upset me.’
‘Am I? Then, Daniel, we shall see.’ Jacob stands from the table and wanders towards the wedged-open front door. ‘Where people weaken the most, is when they err to trust. Trust, friendships, they weaken resolve, weaken the mind. Cambridge really wasn’t too long ago, Daniel. Remember your promise – never forget? I warned you, did I not, about the grass, the weed, however you choose to remember it? Your so-called friends at the time knew better, didn’t they? You trusted them, didn’t you? “Only a bit of fun,” I believe you told me.’
Daniel nods.
‘Oh, one more thing.’ Daniel looks up to meet his eyes. ‘Whilst we’re on the subject of trust. And Natalie. Have you considered her greatest fear, her father?’
How does he know all this? Daniel thinks. How does he know about her father? ‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s told you, I take it, how he beat her? Abandoned her, the whole sorry tale?’
‘Most of it.’ Daniel can’t admit to knowing everything because some of it he’s overheard when she’s been talking to Mo. It makes him sick to think of it – how could anyone treat Natalie so badly? ‘Not everything.’
‘Not all of it. So she doesn’t think too highly of you, then.’
Daniel shrugs.
‘Mark my words, the beating, this is what she tells friends, if not you. But what if it is all a lie? What if she sent her poor father to prison for no reason? Because, Daniel, she is the evil one? Perhaps this is something you should consider. Maybe she’s anything but sweet, Natalie? Up to you, I’m only trying to look out for you.’
Jacob disappears, leaving Daniel alone with his books. Always speaking in riddles and metaphor. Nothing is ever clear. Can he, should he, trust him? Jacob understands Daniel better than anyone, doesn’t he? He says he does. Will his new friends betray and hurt him as Jacob has advised him over and over? Taking the crumpled piece of card from his pocket, slowly he reads the words. ‘The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief?’ Then, digging deeper into his pocket, he finds the latest postcard. ‘He comes to bad intent,’ he whispers. Natalie. No, not Natalie. She wouldn’t tell lies. Jacob is seeking to poison his mind, surely? Natalie, she wouldn’t lie?
39
Morwenna
Another week flown by, Morwenna thinks, sitting in her meeting. Funnily enough, despite the note and all the shenanigans back at the house, she’s feeling pleased with herself, having sold one of the gallery’s most expensive pieces. The artist had captured the outlook quite wonderfully from their viewpoint up near the old tumbledown cottage. Creepy, she remembered thinking, when the artist first told her how he’d taken up residence there over the summer days. Only for the mornings but, even so, she couldn’t imagine being up there alone. All the original furniture still residing, slowly rotting in the corrosive salt air, he said. Apparently, there were signs of someone else having been there. ‘Kids,’ she volunteered. ‘You know what they’re like.’ It’s true, it would be a perfect hideaway for kids. Albeit eerie.
Really and truly she could knock these meetings on the head, but she always feels it’s a bit like, if you don’t take your umbrella it will rain. Too afraid not to attend. It would be all too easy to fall back into old habits. A bad day at work, a low mood, anything really and she’d be off for supplies from the dodgy newsagent’s. Anyway, it allows her some kind of comfort: as one of the group’s success stories, she’s able to turn her experiences into helping others. So why has she been so secretive over it? Shame. It has to be, the stubborn shame factor. No matter what anyone says, that she should be proud, she only ever feels embarrassment. It also allows her a space to think. Talking of secrets, she pulled Mark to one side, with him being in a good mood, her selling the painting, and he’s promised to speak with Natalie soon about his undisclosed business.
At the end of the meeting she promises the group leader she’ll stay for a few minutes to have a word with the newest member. This being his second meeting, Morwenna has concerns from what he’s already mentioned about alcoholism; he may not be totally ready for abstinence. Morwenna recognises the stage well: you want to give up but not quite enough; you really can’t perceive a life worth living beyond the substance. Seeking that elusive magic tablet, to enable abstinence without the motivation or conviction to do so. Bless him, though, he travels quite a distance to attend. She suspects he uses the trip to pull over on the way home to restock on his vodka supply. Or is this too cynical?
Finally, Morwenna is fastening the buttons on her coat.
‘You’re off now, then?’
‘Yes. It’s been good to talk to you. I’ll see you next time?’
‘Hopefully.’
‘Hopefully?’
He shrugs. ‘You know how it is. It’s a drive and a half, from Truro.’
‘Don’t give up… Sorry, please forgive me, your name has slipped my mind.’
‘Eh? Oh. Stu. It’s Stu.’
Morwenna taps his hand. ‘Give it time, at least a little longer, Stu. Give yourself a chance.’
‘I’ll try. Life’s too short, isn’t it?’
Morwenna really needs to be away, she’s already spoken with Stu for some time, but she intuitively feels he has something else he needs to say. ‘It is, Stu, it certainly is.’
‘The thing is, Mo, the thing is – I’ve lost everything. I can’t decide whether I need to keep fighting, or give up. My wife left me some time ago, took my only child with her.’
‘Oh, dear, I am sorry, love.’
‘Then this last week, my neighbour died, killed herself. No warning. Nothing. Odd because I’d no idea, seemed happy enough, she did. Secure job. No family here, all in Poland, but always smiling. Happier than me. You never know, do you?’ Stu runs his hand through hair that could do with a good wash. ‘Never can tell with people, can you? You’d never think she’d be the one to top herself, not at first sight.’
Polish? Truro? Killed herself? There can’t be too many people this applies to in a small city like Truro, Morwenna thinks. Bloody hell. ‘Terrible business. How sad. No, you never can know how others are feeling. But perhaps, Stu, if you don’t mind me suggesting – she won’t have died in total vain if you could find a way to use this tragic event to fight back? Beat your addiction? Like you said, life really is too short and it sounds as though you’ve already suffered enough loss. Maybe, this is the best time for you to make life changes.’ Mo reaches for Stu’s arm. ‘Poor, poor girl, all so tragic.’
‘Lived next door, she did. I found her, you see, kicked the door in but it was all too late. Hanged herself, poor sod.’
‘Oh, my goodness.’
‘Had the same landlor
d, we did. Upright kind of guy. But fair enough, you know, as landlords go.’
Hanged herself. The same landlord, upright type of guy? Has Nigel ever mentioned owning rental properties? ‘Yes? Good, well, that’s something at least, the landlord, I mean. Well, Stu, I’m sorry, I really must be getting on. But, listen, please do come back next week, maybe we can talk some more? Like I said, whatever happens, please do give this some time. Don’t give up. Give yourself a chance, if even for your friend’s sake, eh?’
‘Maybe you’re right. Hopefully, see you next week, then.’
Morwenna takes the opportunity to leave on a positive point. Wandering back towards the centre of town, she then makes her way up the path towards the house. What a bloody coincidence, she thinks, this world really is too small. That’s before she even twists her head around the landlord issue; this absolutely has to be a coincidence, Nigel was the girl’s employer, not her landlord, he never mentioned otherwise. Mind, he did say he helped her out from time to time. I mean, in truth, how well do I really know Nigel? Oh, for goodness’ sake, this is becoming a tangled web of ridiculousness. She really must keep a sharper eye on Natalie. Stu’s words have unsettled her – how would she know if Natalie suddenly took it upon herself to do something stupid? If things became all too much, what with the notes and her father? And this is without her learning about Mark and his background. She’d never considered such a terrible thing before Stu’s comment, but he’s right – who knows what it takes to finally push someone over the edge? She should understand this better than anyone. It seems everyone has their secrets, and everyone knows someone who knows something about them. The secrets keep being linked. Completely mind-boggling.
As she closes the front door behind her, she pauses outside Nigel’s door. Clearly, he’s not been in to the practice again. She’s already halfway up the stairway when she remembers to check for post in the pigeonhole. She climbs back down, empties the contents, making her way back up the stairs. Smiling to herself in the space between her and Natalie’s flats, a waft of garlic filling the air. Natalie has invited her over for an evening meal, a rehearsal for the weekend when she’s to cook for Mark and his friend with partner. She pushes the key into the lock, places the post on the side and, before she removes her coat, pours herself a large glass of wine, then sets the bath off running. Minutes later, stepping into the bath, she freezes as an ear-splitting scream pierces through the walls from Natalie’s flat.
I Know You're There Page 17
