The Woman on the Cliff

by JANICE FROST

  It wasn’t something I’d had to worry about. I’d had my tuition fees paid, and because my parents were on a low income, I’d been entitled to a full maintenance grant.

  Innes nods. “That’s good. Regarding Moira, let me know if anything else comes to mind.”

  “I will. Perhaps being here, focusing on the past, will awaken sluggish memories. I do so want to help.” It seems to have become my mantra.

  “I know.” Innes’s tone softens. “Are you finished? We should get back before the weather worsens.” He turns his face to the window, and I see that it has begun to rain.

  Outside, a worse wind has whipped up, and the roar of the sea puts a stop to any conversation. We retrace our steps out of the village and back to the cliff path and I brace myself against the wind and the rain, heavy now, battering against my coat and stinging my face. My hood won’t stay up and it’s too difficult to hold it in place and battle against the elements, so by the time we reach the cottage, I’m wet and bedraggled.

  Innes hands me a towel and lights the wood-burning stove. In a short while the whole cottage seems to glow with warmth. We sit until well after midnight, sipping brandy and going over what we will say to Stuart Brogan’s sister. Eventually, Bronn reminds us that he has needs, and Innes reaches for his coat.

  After we say goodnight, I climb the stairs to Greta’s bedroom and slip into bed, snuggling under the duvet, even though the warmth from the stove downstairs has permeated the whole house. I fall asleep to the unaccustomed sound of the North Sea pounding in the background.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Relations between Elspeth and Moira continued to be tense after the Christmas break. Typically one of them would goad the other, resulting in a toxic atmosphere for a while, until it all blew over and we’d enjoy some short-lived harmony in the house.

  It continued to infuriate Elspeth that Moira, who rarely seemed to do any work, invariably did well academically.

  “What can I say? It’s a gift!” Moira would trill whenever any of us asked her how she did it. “Natural ability” was another of her offhand responses.

  “I just don’t get it. She doesn’t come across as all that clever. Makes you wonder how she’s doing it,” Elspeth complained, the implication being that Moira was sleeping her way to a good degree.

  After yet another of Elspeth’s rants about how Moira didn’t deserve her academic success, Lucy’s only comment was, “So what? At least she doesn’t go around boasting about her marks.” This was a thinly veiled criticism of Elspeth’s tendency to crow for days when she got an essay back with a good grade. As for Shona, she never had a harsh word to say about Moira.

  “I can’t stand her,” Elspeth confessed to me one afternoon in the library. I followed her gaze to where Moira was sitting at one of the wide tables on the ground floor, holding court to three or four young men. Her flirtatious laughter pealed out across the floor, attracting tuts and disapproving looks from students at nearby tables. Libraries were still quiet places in those days.

  “Who does she think she is, treating the library like a bloody social club? People are trying to work.” Elspeth banged her book shut and began gathering her things. She didn’t have a lecture until the afternoon, so I wondered where she was going. “Upstairs, for some peace and quiet,” she said in a vehement whisper when I enquired. As she passed Moira’s table, she gave her a glare. Moira responded with a self-satisfied smirk.

  It wasn’t long before things between the pair began to escalate. Elspeth would make snide comments about Moira’s habits and appearance. Sometimes she’d walk out of the room whenever Moira entered, or deliberately exclude her from conversations. Things came to a head in an unpleasant incident one memorable day in early January.

  Shona and Lucy had hit on the idea of planning a surprise party at our house for Moira’s twentieth birthday. Elspeth was against the idea, of course. She refused to help plan the event and was adamant that she wouldn’t attend.

  “I mean, it’s not as if Moira was ever anything other than pleasant to you before you started being funny with her. I can’t understand why you took such an irrational and illogical dislike to her.”

  Shona’s words weren’t random. She’d chosen them carefully to appeal to the way Elspeth liked to see herself. Cool and level-headed, rational, and above all, logical in her approach to every aspect of her life. I still shiver when I think of Elspeth’s response.

  We were in a pub on Market Street — Shona, Lucy, Elspeth and I. Elspeth didn’t know it, but we’d lured her there for the sole purpose of confronting her over her dislike of Moira. It had led to an unpleasant atmosphere in the house, and we were all a bit sick of it. Shona had even gone so far as to suggest that we ask Elspeth to leave if she couldn’t get along better with Moira. I disagreed, but Lucy sided with Shona.

  Elspeth’s eyes narrowed at Shona’s remark. She sat, fiddling with her pack of Old Camel cigarettes, eventually taking one out and lighting up, but instead of putting it to her lips, she rolled up her sleeve and calmly pressed the red-hot tip against her arm.

  “Elspeth!”

  Shocked, I jumped up, shoved her hand away. An angry burn mark stood out on her arm, surrounded by a trail of grey ash. There was a faint odour of burnt flesh. Shona and Lucy gazed on in stunned silence. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

  Elspeth hadn’t so much as flinched. It must have hurt but she seemed oblivious to any pain. “That,” she said, her calm gaze on Shona, “was an irrational and illogical act.”

  “Bloody hell, Elspeth. What were you trying to prove?” Shona shook her head. She leaned back in her seat, pint glass in hand. Elspeth offered her a cigarette. “Anyone got a light?” she said. “I’ve run out of matches.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” Lucy said. Everyone laughed, but nervously. Looking closely at Elspeth, I saw a glint of something in her eye. It wasn’t exactly satisfaction but I couldn’t help thinking of that old saying about the cat that got the cream.

  With a shrug, she said, “Moira rubs me up the wrong way. I suppose I could make a bit more effort to get on with her. Sod it, I’ll come to her bloody party.” Shona, Lucy and I sat nodding. We had got what we wanted.

  But it felt as though Elspeth had called all the shots. She’d been the one in control. I couldn’t help but think of my earlier conversation with her, when she’d said she and Moira would never see eye to eye. It didn’t fit with her saying that she’d make an effort to get on with Moira.

  Her relations with Moira seemed to improve for a bit after that.

  Until the party.

  We held Moira’s birthday the following weekend. Her parents had come over from Glasgow for the day. They were an unassuming, middle-aged couple, who spoke with broad Glaswegian accents. Both seemed too old to be the parents of a twenty-year-old. I thought I remembered Moira saying that they’d been in their forties when she was born. Moira looked nothing like either of them and, watching her interact with them, I got the impression that she felt she was in their way.

  Mr and Mrs Mackie had lived through the Second World War and had already brought up two children before Moira came along. Moira’s late arrival must have seemed less a blessing than a disruption of their plans for middle-aged peace and quiet. I could see why she’d found getting away from them and coming to university a liberating experience.

  We planned the party for the Saturday. It was supposed to be a surprise, but Moira probably caught on, for it was the third such ‘surprise’ party in as many months. Lucy, Shona and Elspeth had all had birthdays recently.

  Still, Moira managed to look convincingly astonished when she walked into our house to find around twenty-five people crammed into our small sitting room. Shona had kept her out of the way for a couple of hours while Lucy and I decorated the place with homemade bunting and balloons. One of Shona’s friends had brought along his ghetto blaster and a shoebox full of mix tapes to ensure a steady stream of music. Everyone had brought some booze.
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  As we all sang ‘Happy Birthday,’ followed by ‘For she’s a jolly good fellow,’ I watched Elspeth watching Moira. She wasn’t singing, but merely mouthing the words as though it hurt to move her lips. When she looked at me, I narrowed my eyes. Elspeth rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but she joined in with the cheering at the end of the singing.

  It was a party much like every other party I’d attended as a student. Everyone drank too much, couples snogged and groped in darkened corners, the music went up a notch every so often until it was booming, and the neighbours called the police, who duly arrived and warned us to turn it down. Later, when the pubs closed, there were the inevitable gate-crashers, but by then no one cared if they’d been invited or not.

  Around one in the morning, I found myself squeezed into a corner of the first-floor hallway with a boy from my history class. He had one hand up my T-shirt fondling my breasts, and the other was making its way up my inner thigh. My head was spinning, and I felt slightly nauseous. I pushed him away. Despite his best efforts, I was completely unaroused.

  Staggering away from him, I caught sight of Elspeth standing outside Moira’s open bedroom door. Seeing me, she gave a start. I asked her what she was doing, my words sounding slurred and far away. “Nothing,” she snapped. But there was a guilty look on her face.

  “That’s Moira’s room.” A brilliant feat of observation on my part.

  “I know.” Her voice was chilly. I stood on tiptoes to try to see into the room, but Elspeth had positioned herself in the doorway, blocking my view.

  “Is she in there?”

  “No.”

  “Were you in her room just now?”

  “No.” I must have looked disbelieving, for Elspeth repeated her denial, and claimed that she’d been on her way to the bathroom.

  “Can I go first? I’m desperate,” I asked, no longer interested in what Elspeth had been up to.

  “Good party,” I called out to her from behind the bathroom door, which I’d left ajar. There was no answer, and when I emerged once more onto the landing, I saw that the door to Moira’s bedroom had been closed.

  Around three in the morning, people started to leave, at least those who were able. The ones who’d drunk too much were passed out on chairs or floor cushions, where they’d lie until morning.

  I’d been slumped on the sofa for a good hour, conscious only of the music, and the dwindling number of bodies in the room. I stood up and the room tilted. “I’m so pissed,” I said to an unresponsive body at the other end of the sofa.

  There was a sudden, piercing shriek from upstairs.

  The zombies around me that weren’t actually comatose covered their ears. It was a shriek of anger rather than pain, which was just as well, as I doubt anyone would have been able to respond to an emergency. I fought my dizziness and mounted the stairs, slowly.

  Moira was standing on the landing, a look of dismay on her face. I staggered towards her and followed her gaze to her bedroom. Lucy and Shona were right behind me.

  Moira’s clothes had been pulled out of her cupboards and drawers, and lay strewn across her bedroom floor in tatters. It was Shona who stated the obvious. “Shit, Moira. Someone’s ripped your clothes to shreds.”

  Moira didn’t answer. I’d never seen her look truly angry before that moment. Her top lip curled over her teeth, giving her a feral look. Red blotches stood out against the pale skin of her face and neck. Her whole body shook with rage.

  “Not someone,” Moira snarled. “Fucking Elspeth Blair.” She turned on her heel and marched up to Elspeth’s room, with the rest of us right behind her. Without knocking, she burst inside, and light spilled into the room as she flicked the switch. In seconds, she was at Elspeth’s bedside, shaking her awake, dangling a pair of ripped jeans accusingly in Elspeth’s face.

  “Moira! What the hell?” Elspeth blinked in the harsh light. She rubbed her eyes and twisted herself into an upright position. To tell the truth, I found it hard to believe that she could have been asleep with all the commotion that had been going on.

  “Oh, spare me the ‘I don’t know what this is all about’ bullshit! You’ve been in my room cutting up my clothes!”

  “I have not.”

  They stared at each other for a full ten seconds, before Moira took a decisive step forward and slapped Elspeth across the face.

  There was a collective gasp from Shona, Lucy and me. We watched as Elspeth, cheek reddening from Moira’s slap, leapt out of bed and threw herself at Moira.

  What followed was impressive. I’d seen ‘girl fights’ in the school playground, and they were usually of the hair-pulling, scratching and biting sort, punctuated by a lot of high-pitched squealing. Not so this one.

  In response to Elspeth’s leap, Moira instantly stepped backwards and adopted the kind of fighting stance I’d only ever seen on TV. She spun around, right leg raised, and delivered a sickening kick to Elspeth’s stomach.

  We all gasped. Elspeth howled in pain. Shona and I exchanged glances. Where the hell had Moira learned how to do that?

  “You fucking cow!” Elspeth screamed, clutching her gut, unable to rise. I went to her aid, skirting nervously past Moira, who seemed slightly shocked at what she’d done. Shona and Lucy stared after her as she stomped from the room.

  I was suddenly sober. “She’s broken my bloody ribs, I’m sure of it,” Elspeth groaned. I recalled the nauseating thud of Moira’s foot impacting with Elspeth’s middle, and didn’t doubt it.

  Shona offered some reassurance. “I’ve had broken ribs. I don’t think you’ve got them. You’re just winded, I think.”

  Lucy hovered at the bedside, looking stoned, shaking her head in disbelief. “She must have done karate at school or something,” she commented.

  “It wasn’t me,” Elspeth intoned sullenly, rubbing her ribs. “I never touched her bloody clothes.”

  No one commented. It was on my lips to ask her what she’d been doing standing outside the door to Moira’s bedroom earlier on, but I held back. I could see that Shona and Lucy were conflicted over Elspeth’s guilt. Elspeth’s eyes sought out mine. I kept quiet. After all, I hadn’t seen her do anything more than stand in the hallway.

  We left Elspeth’s room. When we passed Moira’s door, it was closed. Shona hesitated for a moment as if she might knock, but in the end, she walked away.

  I woke the next morning hideously hungover. The memory of the ‘fight’ returned slowly.

  I crawled out of bed around midday and went downstairs to find Elspeth in the living room, clearing up the detritus from the party.

  “Bloody hell, Elspeth, it’s freezing in here,” I said, but despite the very fresh air blowing in through the open windows, an unpleasant odour still hung in the air — of stale cigarette smoke and empty lager cans — and I understood the necessity for the cold.

  The furniture was still arranged around the walls where we’d cleared it the day before to maximise the floor space for dancing, but otherwise the place looked remarkably clean and tidy. “You must have been up for hours to have cleared all that mess up.”

  “I was in too much pain to sleep much.” To prove her point, Elspeth winced as she straightened.

  “Do you think you should go to casualty?”

  “No. I think I’m just bruised.”

  “Is anyone else up?”

  “You mean, have I seen Moira shit-face Mackie this morning?”

  Obviously I wanted to know if they’d faced each other yet. “Lucy and Shona are still in bed, as far as I know. They haven’t been downstairs. I heard Moira go out before I got up this morning.”

  “That’s surprising, though you and Moira were probably the only ones not stoned or pissed as newts last night.” It was the one thing Elspeth and Moira had in common. Neither of them was a big drinker.

  “I don’t expect to see Lucy before tea-time. She’ll sleep the sleep of the dead for hours.” Elspeth looked at me with faint disapproval. “How are you feeling? You look like shit warmed up.�
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  “I’ve felt better. Nothing a cup of coffee and some fried bread won’t take care of.” I moved to get up, groaned, collapsed back on the sofa.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. I don’t know why you drink so much, Ros. You know you can’t handle it. Sit there. I’ll bring you some breakfast.” But before Elspeth left the room, she asked, “You did believe me last night when I told you I had nothing to do with ripping up Moira’s clothes, didn’t you?”

  I nodded uncertainly. The truth was, I wasn’t sure. “If not you, then who?” I said, risking her ire.

  “Who knows?” Elspeth said with a shrug. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who can’t stand her.”

  When she returned with a mug of coffee and said fried bread, dipped in egg allegedly to make it healthier, I asked, “Have you still got the list of people we invited to the party?” As if I needed to ask.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Let’s take a look. See if we can narrow down a list of suspects.”

  “Okay, but you’re forgetting something. About twenty gate-crashers walked in the door after the pubs shut. There were loads of people here I didn’t recognise. Including that guy who was all over you on the upstairs landing. Who was he, by the way?”

  I felt myself redden. “Er . . . I don’t know. He had evil breath, though.”

  The sound of the door opening and closing caused us both to start. It was Moira. She looked startled to see Elspeth. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry for accusing you falsely last night. It was a natural sort of assumption to make, given that—”

  “I can’t stand you?” Elspeth said, sourly.

  “Yes. Well. There’s no accounting for taste,” Moira said, “Most people seem to take to me. I guess you’re the exception that proves the rule.”

  “Have you any idea who might have done it?” I asked.

  There was the slightest hesitation. “No. Probably just someone who’d had too much to drink and thought it would be a good practical joke.”